


the definition of magic

by phoenixsky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood Magic, But not Evil Harry Potter, Dark Harry Potter, F/F, F/M, Harry is James Potter's Cousin, M/M, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), No character bashing, No teacher/student relationship, Professor Tom Riddle, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Rune Magic, Slytherin Harry Potter, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27744172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixsky/pseuds/phoenixsky
Summary: Hadrian Rigel Potter has never been able to use a wand. But the son of the scorned “Potter squib” has his own method to use magic – and if he has his way the wizarding world will soon realize that those who hold a wand are not always superior.A sudden and unexpected inheritance of the Potter Lordship might ease his path into the political arena, but it also brings with it new challenges such as enraged family members, attending Hogwarts, and the attention of Lord Slytherin.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Narcissa Black/Lily Evans, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 90
Kudos: 427





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note on Hadrian's magic: Runes play a central role for him and in this story. I used Elder Futhark Runes for this story and played with them quite a lot in regards to their meaning. The way they are used here is not meant to be accurate at all. 
> 
> Runes used in a chapter are explained shortly in the end notes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not own the Elder Futhark Runes.

_"_ _Hagalaz!_ _”_

The vaguely “H” shaped rune on his right hand glowed golden and a lightning bolt found its target across the room. The dark figure went down immediately. Without allowing himself even a short pause, he dived behind an upturned table, barely escaping a cutting hex. His mind was firing information at him – three down, seven more to go, two wounded, aim for wounded areas to take them down more easily, noises to his left, two, no – three figures trying to get closer, breathe quietly now, a non-verbal _Algiz_ first, the protective shield around him flaring in a light blue, get out of the corner, figures coming closer, move soon, wall to your back, where are the others, move in four, three, two, one, move now! – and he was running. Three curses bounced off the protection shield around him, and without thinking he blasted the broken table into the attacking figures. With a wave of his hand he set the whole pile of broken wood and human limps on fire, the rune _Kenaz_ humming happily on his left hand. Already, he was searching for new cover, aware of the four figures which were still hidden somewhere in the room. He was breathing hard, and unfortunately some of the blood running down his left arm was indeed his own.

Time was ticking and he had to end this now. He spotted a quick movement a few feet away, a black robe slipping behind a surprisingly intact cabinet. Under his breath he murmured quietly, activating both _Mannaz_ for identifying the people around him and _Raidho_ to make the magic moving around him visible for a moment. A second later, the four missing magical presences suddenly revealed themselves to him. He smirked as he realised that two of them were approaching him from the right, hiding in a conjured cloud of dust. Keeping an eye on the other two figures he let his hand dance though the air. Pushing a large amount of magic into the water rune _Laguz_ , his two enemies were soon drowning in a dirty ball of water.

He confronted the last two on open field, twisting and turning as he activated one rune after another, combing them and twisting their meaning into displays of magic of which some would get him stuck behind the bars of Azkaban for several decades if an Auror were to see him using them. He laughed, excitement making his blood sing, when the head of one figure exploded due to _Isa_ turning it into ice and _Thurisaz_ splitting it apart. Grinning widely, he turned to face his last opponent. Eyes completely void of any emotion stared back, and then the green light of the Killing curse was suddenly flying right at him. His own eyes, which were the exact colour of the curse aiming to end his life, widened in surprise. He let himself fall to the side, all while cutting the air with his right hand, his magic pulsing with fury beneath his runes. His overpowered _Hagalaz_ cut the opposing figure into two halves with nothing but pressured air, leaving his fast breaths as the only noise in the room.

“Very impressive. A little bit slow, but you were more or less playing, weren’t you, my dear?”

Green eyes snapped open and the young wizard forced his sore body into standing upright. Brushing off some dust off his battle robes, he looked up and glared at the elderly witch at the other side room.

“You didn’t tell me that you changed the settings, mother! I was unprepared for the Unforgivables!”

His mother returned his glare with an unimpressed stare. “Real life won’t give you a warning either, will it now? Don’t whine, Hadrian, it’s undignified. It’s not as if the curse would have actually killed you.”

Hadrian sighed, but he automatically straightened his posture. “Yes, mother.” he murmured, before looking at his bloodied robes. Sometimes the training room took these simulations a little bit too far, in his opinion.

“May I take a shower before breakfast? And a change of robes would be appreciated by both of us, I think.”

His mother smiled lightly and nodded. “Of course. I will wait for you in the green sitting room.”

Humming in agreement, Hadrian Rigel Potter walked out of the training room, leaving behind a scene of destruction and violence. His mother, Dorea Potter née Black, smiled happily as she watched the lean silhouette of her son. Ten opponents against one, and all of them defeated in a little under half an hour. Yes, one could safely assume that she was quite proud of her son.

A hot shower and a change of clothes later, Hadrian stepped into the sitting room where his mother was already waiting for him. He smiled a little bit sadly when he saw her talking with the portrait of his father in a low voice. He missed his father every single day, but it was obvious that his mother was taking the sudden death of her husband even worse, though it had been almost three years since then. Their marriage had been one of love and defiance of their families, and to have been ripped apart so soon was just another sign of how cruelly fate sometimes dealt her cards.

“Mother.” Hadrian greeted her with a quick kiss on her cheek and smiled at the portrait of the late Charlus Potter. “Father.” he added respectfully.

“Percival Warrington.” his mother said instead of a welcoming remark, Charlus rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Hadrian suppressed the urge to copy his father and sat down in the chair to his mother's right. “Second son of Lord Peter Warrington, part of the neutral party of the Wizengamot.” He started to list fact after fact while simultaneously adding some more brown sugar and fruits to his porridge. “Will be in his… seventh year at Hogwarts this September. Slytherin. After the death of his older brother and heir of the Warrington family, he is now expected to take on the Warrington Lordship and his seat in the Wizengamot. However,…” Hadrian added some honey to his tea, “… it seems as if Mr. – excuse me, _Heir_ Warrington is much more interested in Quidditch and girls than politics. Since we can assume that Lord Warrington won’t allow the Lordship to fall to the secondary line, the future Lord Warrington will be a quite weak addition to our government.”

Dorea Potter nodded in satisfaction and then glared at her son’s breakfast. “Really, Hadrian, it’s no wonder you need to work off steam in the training room so often! This amount of sugar can’t be healthy.”

Hadrian shrugged, his grin widening at his mother’s glare because of the ‘plebeian’ gesture. “Sugar fuels my brain, dear mother. And Merlin knows I need all my wits together with you as a teacher.”

His mother continued to glare, but Hadrian saw the glint of amusement hidden in her grey eyes. She turned to the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ next to her plate and sneered at the headline.

**LORD POTTER LOSES FIGHT AGAINST SUDDEN SICKNESS**

**The British Wizarding World mourns the well-respected Head of the Potter House**

> The news of Lord Potter’s sudden sickness has reached us only a few hours before a horrible suspicion became a devastating truth: Lord Fleamont Potter has lost his battle against Dragon Pox. His wife and his son, Heir James Potter, are currently in St. Mungos, but with the current political climate it wouldn’t be surprising to see both of them at Gringotts soon. James Potter, at this moment only sixteen and soon to be a sixth year student at Hogwarts, will have to take his father’s place as Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. No doubt the young wizard will be relying on Albus Dumbledore for this staggering task, as his father has done before him on many different occasions.
> 
> There has been no word about the reaction of Dorea Potter, the wife of the late Charlus Potter who died four years ago. Considering the fact that the younger twin had been cast out of his family by his own brother, his reclusive wife and her son might not have been as heartbroken as the rest of the family.
> 
> _Written by: Evelyn Rhys_

“They are probably in a ritual chamber at Gringotts in this very moment.” Hadrian said after catching sight of the headline. He wasn’t mourning the death of his uncle – he had never met the man. Whenever he thought of the other part of the Potter family, he felt the anger at the treatment of his father rise once again. Charlus Potter had not been formally disowned by his brother, but it had been a close call. Fleamont Potter had been waiting for a reason to cast his younger twin from the family, simply because he didn’t want to be associated with him. Charlus had always been physically weak, and his magical power levels had been so low that their parents had feared him to be a squib for quite some time. Indeed, in the last few years of his life, his magical core had appeared to close down, denying Charlus the access to his own magic. But Hadrian had never seen his father like that, had never associated him with words like "weak" and "shameful". Charlus Potter had been brilliant, his mind faster than anyone else’s. It was his mind that had attracted Dorea Black when they were in Hogwarts together, and it was his mind which Hadrian hoped to have inherited. It had been this mind, after all, that had ensured that Hadrian wouldn’t suffer the same fast death as his father.

“Disgusting people. Euphemia has always wanted to be in control of the House of Potter, and with her husband gone and her son being a foolish good-for-nothing student, she finally reached her goal.”

Hadrian couldn’t help but laugh at his mother’s description of James Potter. He had never met his cousin either, but they had exchanged a few letters. Or rather, James Potter used Hadrian’s birthday to send him creative insults and taunts badly hidden behind formal well wishes. Well, they were supposed to be formal, but it seemed as if James had never really been educated in etiquette or politics. Hadrian was prepared to gleefully watch his cousin embarrass himself in front of the whole Wizengamot and the wizarding public.

He had just opened his mouth to answer his mother when he suddenly felt a twisting sensation in his stomach. Recognizing the feeling of an apparation, he gasped out loudly. Immediately he held the attention of his mother.

“Hadrian, what–“

“Forced apparat–“ Hadrian was able to squeeze out before he was whisked away.

ᛋ

James Potter had not been waiting for this day. In fact, he had hoped that this day was still years and decades away from him. The only reason why he was currently surrounded by the white stone of Gringotts was the death of his father. He could still see him in front of his eyes, but his mind refused to remember the still, white form which had been lying in the hospital bed. Instead, he remembered his father flushed with life riding his favourite horse, teaching James how to meet a target from the back of the running animals. He remembered him sneaking into the kitchens for a midnight snack and how he complained about the other members of the Wizengamot. He remembered him welcoming Sirius, James’ best friend, with open arms and an easy smile.

Merlin, how he wished Sirius could be here at the moment. Or Remus. The quietest of the four friends would know what to do right know, would know what to say, how to act. James was just so fucking lost, standing here in the middle of a rune circle, waiting for the goblins to start the ritual which would transfer the Lordship from his father to himself.

Sometimes he wanted to curse his mother for her ambitions. If she had been patient enough to wait a few days, they could have gone the standard way. No rituals, no rune circles, simply James putting on the Lordship ring. But no, his mother had demanded the transfer to happen on the very day his father had taken his last breath. Gringotts’ magic had not yet initiated the transfer, and therefore, they had to enforce it with a ritual.

“Heir Potter.” a goblin suddenly called out. James was sure that this one had told him its name, but he had already forgotten it. They all looked the same to him anyway.

“We will begin the ritual. Please focus on your magical core, and if possible, try to call as much magic to you as possible. I remember the Potter family magic to be quite stubborn.”

James nodded, but from behind he could hear his mother’s indignant voice.

“He’s the rightful heir of the Potter Lordship. There won’t be any problems as long as Gringotts performs the ritual in an acceptable manner.”

James could almost hear the tension in the chamber thicken, and not for the first time he wished that his mother would sometimes soften her words.

“I hope you are not implying that we at Gringotts offer sub-optimal service.” one of the goblins said stiffly. Cold, black eyes were staring at the richly dressed witch with undisguised anger.

“Of course not.” James quickly interjected. He knew his mother would be unhappy with him for basically giving in to the goblins, but in this moment he simply wanted to get this ordeal behind him.

The goblin who had reacted to the thinly covered insult gave him a sharp glare but nodded after a few seconds.

“Please ready yourself, Heir Potter.”

James took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He had no problems with performing magic with a wand in his hand, but calling his magic to the surface was a difficult exercise. Around him, the runes started to glow with a bright, white light, similar to the _Lumos_ charm.

Low chanting could be heard as the goblins easily recited the incantation for the ritual. However, James frowned slightly, eyes still closed, when the voices of the goblins started to become strained. The chanting grew louder, the magic in the air suddenly growing smothering.

James opened his eyes slowly, trying to keep his magic strong. This was not supposed to happen. He could see the confusion on the goblins’ faces, even while they continued the ritual. Considering the words they were chanting (or rather growling, by now), it seemed as if the family magic refused to accept him as the Heir and therefore as the new Lord Potter. But why? He was the eldest son of Lord Potter. He was the _only_ son of Lord Potter. There was no reason why the ritual should fail.

His thoughts were interrupted when a sudden, blinding light filled the chamber. Biting back a curse, James pressed his eyes close. Then, a low thump could be heard, and an unfamiliar, male voice cursed out loudly.

“What the bloody –“

James opened his eyes carefully and stared in confusion at the boy lying in front of him. He couldn’t see much except for expensive, dark green robes and long, black hair.

The boy jumped to his feet, looking around wildly and startling James enough that he actually took a step backwards. The speed of how he was suddenly holding his hand out in front of him and the way he held his body spoke of duelling experience. However, James noted in a second of confusion, the boy did not appear to have a wand.

Bright, green eyes met his own, and suddenly James knew who was standing in front of him.

“Hadrian?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Before the other boy was able to answer, his mother was suddenly by his side, her voice overpowering everything else.

“What is the meaning of this?! You were supposed to perform the Lordship ritual, not summon some stranger! How dare you manipulate my son’s inheritance?!”

“You are James Potter.” a wondering voice interrupted James’ mother. He ignored her insulted huff for the moment and met the curious but slightly cold look of the other boy. His cousin, if his suspicion was correct.

“And you are Hadrian Potter. My cousin.” James stated.

“Who cares who he is?” his mother sneered. “How did you interrupt the ritual?!”

Hadrian looked at his mother with seemingly unbreakable calm. “I did not willingly interrupt the ritual. I was at home when a forced apparation took me here.”

“Impossible!” his mother immediately responded, glaring at her nephew.

Suddenly, a goblin coughed in a slightly obnoxious manner, obviously trying to gain their attention.

“There might be a reason for Mr. Potter’s suddenly appearance.” the goblin said, ignoring the angry glare of Lady Potter. “Your father was Charlus Potter, the younger twin of Lord Potter, correct?”

Hadrian nodded, carefully listening. James couldn’t help but think that his cousin looked more like a Black than a Potter. The shoulder-length, black hair looked almost identical to that of Sirius. But he had inherited the green eyes of his father, a trait which seemed to randomly pop up in the Potter line. For some reason, the other boy was wearing black gloves – wait, had he already worn them when he had appeared? Maybe James had simply missed him putting them on. An odd fashion choice – but Hadrian was probably just as mad as his father.

“It seems as if the ritual has chosen you as the rightful heir of the Lordship title, instead of Heir – Mr. James Potter. I would suggest…” here, the goblin had to raise his voice in order to be heard despite Lady Potter’s loud complains, “I would suggest an inheritance test to clear this matter up.”

James had been more curious than anything else up to this point, but now he was becoming anxious. The Lordship title was his birth right, promised to him since the day he was born! Sure, he wasn’t really all that interested in politics, but he was definitely interested in becoming Lord Potter! And he'd been told that it was really important that he became Lord Potter, important for the war against the Dark. Also, what claim did Hadrian really have on anything belonging to the Potter name? His father had been disowned in everything but the name. He’d been a squib, for Merlin’s sake, and seeing as his cousin didn’t attend Hogwarts, surely he was also a squib. They had had no contact with Charlus Potter for longer than Hadrian had been alive! Hadrian had no connection to the Potter name, no sense of responsibility for the family business. No, James thought angrily, there was no way he would give up his title to someone like Hadrian!

ᛋ

Hadrian was conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to take the inheritance test, wanted to know if he truly was the heir to the Lordship title. The mere possibility seemed ridiculous, but the rituals at Gringotts were known to never fail. There had to be a reason, a good reason, for magic to bring him here. But on the other hand, he had never wanted much to do with the rest of the Potter family. The way they had treated his father for being seemingly weak, and his mother for having the wrong surname… well, it had done the other Potters no favour in Hadrian’s eyes. And although he would never admit it… he was still bitter about his own treatment by the main line of the family. His uncle and aunt had never even acknowledged his existence. There had been no response to his letters, no invitation for a visit. There had never been any birthday or Yule presents, and at the age of nine, he had stopped sending them letters and presents. He had been so hurt and disappointed, and his father had been so angry he had almost gone to confront his brother.

And then, with him and James both turning eleven, the later had started sending him letters. Letters about Hogwarts and his family. The words had been taunting, cruel in an honest way only a child could be. Hadrian had refused to talk to his parents for a whole week, angry that he wasn’t allowed to go to Hogwarts as well. By now, he could understand his parents’ decision and was actually glad to have been home schooled, but back then, it had seemed as if everyone had been against him.

To them, he had never been part of the Potter family. The only reason he felt any kind of connection to his own surname was his father. Charlus Potter had made sure that his son knew of the family business and the secrets, of the heirlooms hidden in vaults deep below Gringotts, and of the role Lord Potter held in the government. Being Lord Potter meant more than just having a fancy title and a lot of gold. It meant work and responsibility. There were families tied to the Potter family, some due to debt, some as former vassals. It was so much more than just a ring on a finger, and Hadrian would lie if he said that he hadn’t wished to be the heir on various occasions.

His father would have been an amazing Lord Potter, Hadrian was sure. Charlus Potter had been an incredible man on his own, but much more important had been his sense of responsibility towards his family and everyone else. He would have been a major player in the Wizengamot, the complete opposite of his brother, who had been mostly noticed for his numerous missed sessions.

It was a difficult situation which Hadrian had suddenly been thrown in, and therefore, he had currently an urgent priority.

“I would like to wait with any further decisions until my mother is here as well.” Hadrian told one of the goblins. The goblin was dressed in richer clothes than the others and seemed to be in the highest positions.

The goblin nodded. “Of course, Mr. Potter.” he agreed immediately. “An emergency notice has already been sent out to Mrs. Potter.”

“That woman has no place here.” Lady Potter suddenly shoved her way into the conversation. Hadrian had known her for a mere ten minutes and he already strongly disliked her. “This is a matter of the Potter family. She’s a Black, a dark witch. We do not want her here.”

Hadrian didn’t try to hide his anger. “Lady Potter, my mother was bonded to Charlus Potter in a perfectly legitimate ceremony. I assure you that she has every reason and right to be here. Or should we follow your argument and exclude you as well, since you are a McKennon by birth?”

Lady Potter was breathing heavily, her glare hateful. “How _dare you_ …” she hissed angrily before being interrupted by her son’s urgent whisper. Hadrian didn’t try to overhear them, but it seemed as if James Potter was at least more intelligent than his mother.

He clasped his hands tightly, finding comfort in the presence of the tight gloves as he tried to bring his thoughts in some kind of order. Thank Merlin that he had early on adapted the habit to always carry a pair of fingerless gloves with him, even when he sat down to eat in the supposed security of his home. He couldn’t let anyone see his hands, after all.

He took a subtle but deep breath. This was not something to think about while ruled by emotions. Yes, he loved the thought of embodying his father’s triumph over his older twin… but that couldn’t be the deciding factor for his decision.

Hadrian had always seen his future in politics. He loved magic, loved working with it and duelling filled him with more joy than most other things, but above all this, Hadrian loved the magical world. He loved the diversity, all the different races, wizards, witches, creatures, even plants with magic flowing through them. It was fascinating to see how many shapes magic took on, how it gave all of them different abilities and traits by granting them the same gift. He himself was prove of that and he yearned to have the possibility to prove his worth to all those wand-wielding elitists.

He loved the _possibilities_ of magic, from simple household charms to the fact that magic fuelled many of the technologies which muggles needed to power with electricity. The Knight Bus had never even been close to a drop of oil, and still it worked perfectly fine. They had a huge advantage, and yet, they didn’t really use it.

It was sometimes frustrating to see how much the wizarding world was happy to stay stagnant, to never feel the need to develop further. It was a staggering contrast to the almost relentless force which seemed to drive the muggles into new innovations every day. But Hadrian saw it differently. He loved the traditions of his world and he didn’t want to see them changed. In his opinion, the magical world _was_ developing, was going further, but in the opposite direction than the muggles. Instead of working towards ruling the planet by slowly using up all its natural resources, already planning to leave this world behind and to discover new planets, new homes… the magical people strived to better harmonize with Nature. Magic was a natural resource, similar to light. No life would survive without light, and no magical life would survive without magic. And therefore, they needed to honour magic, needed to protect it in all its forms. That was what his world needed to focus on.

Hadrian knew the mindset of Dumbledore and his followers. They didn’t represent the whole of the Light party, but a large part of it. He knew about their dream of the magical and the muggle world living in harmony. About their desire to modernize the wizarding world, to integrate technology in their daily life. It was hopelessly naïve. The muggles would see them as nothing more than a resource. They would study magic, using wizards and witches and magical creatures for experiments, all in the name of science. And when they realized that they wouldn’t be able to steal magic, that their bodies weren’t made for it, they would want to control them, to take away their freedom, and to use them. As a resource, as a weapon, as a pet. Whatever the final goal would be, Hadrian was determined to never see it become reality.

But without a strong position in the Ministry, without political influence, there was nothing he could actually do. He had planned to apply for a job at the Ministry, though he wasn’t quite sure yet which Department would be the most suitable to make the realisation of his ideas possible. Now though… well, being Lord Potter would make his plans significantly easier. But was the easiest path really the one he wanted to follow?

Hadrian glanced towards his relatives and met the glare his cousin was sending his way. He could understand James’ reaction, but he couldn’t help but feel smug regarding the changes between them. James had taunted him with the Lordship title and the Potter family itself various times, and to see his own words thrown back into his cousin’s face was quite satisfying.

The stony silence of the room was only interrupted when the heavy doors opened to allow the tiny, but still somehow imposing figure of Dorea Potter to enter. Hadrian immediately relaxed, soothed by the certainty of a son who knew that somehow the mere presence of his mother would solve all his problems.

With large, gliding steps he crossed the chamber and leaned down to press a short kiss to his mother’s cheek.

“Mother.” he said lowly. He knew she hated being the only person in the room who didn’t know what exactly was going on, so he quickly explained what had happened. “For some reason, the Lordship ritual denied James the title and instead reached out to me. It appears that the Potter family magic sees me as the rightful heir.”

Only a widening of her eyes showed how much his mother was surprised by his words. She looked at him with piercing eyes, trying to figure out what he thought of the situation. He gave her a tiny, grim smile. He still wasn’t sure what to think. His mother took his hands in hers and tightened the grip for a second before letting them go.

They didn’t need words. Hadrian had shown his conflicted feelings and his mothers had understood. Now, it was time to face the people who had refused them their place in the family for all these years.

ᛋ

The goblins had guided them out of the ritual chamber and into a formal meeting room. Some of them had left as well, leaving behind only a goblin called Brighthax, who introduced himself as the manager of the Potter account, and Ragnok, who was the manager of the Gringotts branch in Diagon Alley. Obviously, the goblins considered this matter to be quite important and they had assured them that the other goblins who had been present during the ritual were all bound to strict confidentiality oaths.

As soon as they had all sat down, Brighthax summoned various documents and shuffled through them. He found the one he had been searching for quite quickly, and after studying the Potter family tree for a few seconds, he turned to Ragnok and spoke to him in harsh sounding Gobbledegook. Next to Hadrian, his mother waited in perfect calmness for the goblins to finish their discussion, while Lady Potter on the opposite side of the table grew more and more agitated with every passing second.

“Well?!”, Lady Potter suddenly snapped. “Let’s get this farce over with! It’s insulting that you even consider the possibility of my James not–“

“Thank you, Lady Potter.” Ragnok interrupted the angry witch with a deep rumble. It was obvious that he did not appreciate Lady Potter’s behaviour at all. The goblin turned to Hadrian’s mother, nodding respectfully. She responded in kind, apparently completely at ease in the uncomfortable chairs they were all sitting in.

“Mrs. Potter, I assume your son has already explained the situation to you?”

“Yes, Master Ragnok, I am aware of the situation.”

If the goblin was surprised by her respectful address, he didn’t show it. “Very well. The Potter family tree shows that the late Lord Potter was the older twin and therefore the rightful heir to the Lordship title. Was there ever any indication that your husband, Charlus Potter, was the older twin instead?”

Ignoring the indignant sputter from Lady Potter, Dorea Potter frowned. “No, there was never even the slightest suspicion that Charlus was the older twin. Fleamont was born half an hour earlier, if I remember correctly.”

Ragnok nodded, still ignoring Lady Potter. Hadrian thought it interesting to see how different the goblins treated the two women. One should have assumed that they’d treat Lady Potter with more respect and attention, since she held a higher status and more Galleons behind her name than his mother. But it seemed as if there had been a very good reason for his mother to teach him to always treat magical creatures with respect, goblins of course included. The gesture was obviously appreciated.

“We would like to perform a family test on Mr. Potter. Mr. Hadrian Potter.” Brighthax clarified. “A drop of his blood will be enough to trace his family tree back to his grandparents. The lines of the tree will show clearly, whether he and his father Charlus Potter are considered the main line by the Potter family magic, or if this position is held by Mr. James Potter and his father.”

No one raised any concerns against the goblins’ plan. Lady Potter seemed to want this whole situation to be over with, confident in her position as the rightful Lady Potter. James stared at the white sheet of parchment in the middle of the wooden table with a deep frown. Hadrian didn’t know his cousin well enough to guess what he was thinking in that moment.

With a deep breath, Hadrian took the small, silver knife handed to him by Brighthax. Carefully, he raised the sharp blade to his right hand, since the blood for rituals was traditionally taken from the hand which channelled the most magic. He was able to channel magic through his left hand as well, but his right hand was definitely the dominant one.

The cut on his thumb was only small and not very deep, but Hadrian had to suppress a pained hiss anyway. This was another side effect of rituals: the wounds always hurt more than in a normal situation. Some people thought it was due to the magic infused in the ritual knives, and some argued that it was a warning to prevent people from performing too many blood rituals. Hadrian thought that both arguments probably held some truth.

A drop of his blood fell on the clean parchment and seemed to be absorbed by the thick paper. Hadrian allowed his mother to heal the wound with a quick swipe of her wand, well aware of the judging eyes of his so-called family. But there was no reason to reveal his... unique approach to casting magic, not yet.

His mother cleaned the knife as well, all while they were watching the parchment with sharp eyes. The tension in the room rose once more, and then black lines started to form on the paper. Hadrian watched as his own name was spelled out, his eyes tracing the line which connected him to the slowly forming names of his parents. He couldn’t help but notice that their names were positioned in the very middle of the parchment, not on the side as one would have expected from someone who was part of a secondary family line. He could feel his mother stiffen next to him when her parents’ names appeared as well. Cygnus Black and his wife Violetta (née Bulstrode) had never disowned their daughter for marrying a “misguided Light wizard, and a near squib as well”, but they hadn’t spoken with her in over a decade. Still, at least she had fared better than her cousin Cedrella, who had been disowned and had never been spoken of again after marrying Septimus Weasley.

From the names of his grandparents, Harold and Charlotte Potter, a second line started to form. Black ink moved slowly, shaping the names of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. Shortly after, James Potter’s name appeared, and the parchment seemed to settle. Hadrian stared at the so familiar and yet so completely new family tree in front of him. There were his father and he, directly under the name of the former Lord Potter, Harold Potter. Under the table he could feel his mother taking hold of his hand once again.

The results were clear. Charlus Potter had been the one to continue the main line of the Potters. He had been the older twin and the rightful heir of the Lordship title. Instead, he had been the laughing stock of his family.

“Lies!” Lady Potter suddenly hissed, her complicated hair-do slowly falling apart. “You sabotaged the test. My Fleamont had been announced as the heir by the Potter family immediately after his birth. He was taught in politics and the family business from early on. There was never – I cannot believe – you are _lying_! Charlus Potter was a weak little man, there is no way he was the true heir!”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop rapidly as Dorea Potter stared at Lady Potter with cold, grey eyes. “I would advise you to refrain from insulting my husband in front of me, Mrs. Potter.” she said calmly. Everyone present was able to hear the threat behind her words.

“How dare you address me like that?! I am _Lady Potter_ , the –“

“Ah, but apparently, that title is supposed to be mine, isn’t it?” Hadrian’s mother interrupted her with a cruel smile. Her Black heritage had never been more obvious.

Ragnok coughed pointedly, gaining the attention of the agitated witches and wizards.

“Please, let’s focus on the situation right now. The test shows that Charlus Potter was indeed the older son, making Hadrian Rigel Potter the rightful heir of the Potter Lordship.”

“But he was cast out of the family!” Lady Potter screeched. “Charlus was cast out, so his son should not even be considered to be part of the family!”

Hadrian was surprised to hear her hostility so plainly in her voice. He had known that they didn’t care for him, but to know for sure that they didn’t even consider him family… It hurt more than Hadrian wanted to admit.

Brighthax glared at Lady Potter. “May I remind you of the difference between casting out a family member and disowning them? By casting out Charlus Potter, he was forbidden entry to the Potter estates and was unable to join the family business in any way or form. He was unable to make contracts in the Potter name. But he was _not_ disowned! He kept his family name and the Potter family magic never denounced him! He was still part of the family, and therefore his son is part of the Potter family as well!”

Hadrian wondered why Brighthax seemed to be so passionate about defending his father’s name. Then he remembered his father’s interest in finance and businesses. He had seemed to have an incredible feeling for which company would have success in the future. Even though Charlus hadn't been able to sign contracts with his own name, he had steadily built an impressive network of contacts and business partners. Their family had never been short of money, even with both families denying them monetary support. His father had told him on various occasions that, as a business man, you needed to be a friend of the people controlling the money. In the case of the wizarding world, those people were the goblins at Gringotts.

Yes, Hadrian thought, Charlus Potter had probably been mourned more by Brighthax than by his own brother.

Before Lady Potter could start her tirade again, Hadrian directed his word to Brighthax. “But how come my father wasn’t given the Lordship title after my grandfather’s death? Why did the family magic accept his brother?”

As soon as he started to speak, James Potter appeared to shake off his shocked stupor. Hadrian could feel his cousin’s furious glare burning into his skin. On one hand, he felt victorious as he finally had the upper hand between them. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but mourn something that he had never had. There was no way his cousin would ever want anything to do with him now, no matter how this would end.

“The late Lord Fleamont Potter cast his brother out when he was still only the heir of the family title. Normally, such a drastic step can only be taken by the head of the family, at that time Harold Potter, but as we all know the later was very sick during the last few years of his life. While Fleamont Potter might not yet have been Lord Potter on the paper, he already fulfilled all duties tied to the position. I believe his father had set up a contract at one point, naming him the acting head of the family. Since such a contract can be set up without a ritual, there was no reason to suspect Fleamont Potter of not being the rightful heir.”

Brighthax shuffled through the documents in front of him, before making a short sound of satisfaction. “Yes, here is the contract. This was set up and signed by Harold Potter in 1959, three years before his death. It allowed his son to remove his twin brother from the family, however, as I said before, he was not able to _disown_ Charlus Potter.”

“What does it matter anyway?!” James suddenly growled. He glared at Hadrian with a disturbing amount of disdain. “My uncle was removed from the family. My cousin has no right to the Lordship. This is _my_ title we are talking about, it was promised to me, I was trained for it–“

Hadrian rolled his eyes at the whiny note of his cousin’s complains. “Which party of the Wizengamot will you join then?” he asked impatiently.

James turned towards him, his body tense. “The Light party of course. Just like my father and his father before.”

Hadrian nodded. “And why?”

“I- what do you mean, _why_? There is no alternative! Are _you_ thinking about joining the Dark party? If yes, you just affirmed that we can’t trust you with anything of my family!”

Hadrian almost groaned at the other boy’s obvious prejudices. His mother had warned him about the unfortunate influence which being sorted into Gryffindor apparently had on one’s number of brain cells. However, seeing it spelled out so clearly was quite shocking.

“How do the goals and objectives of the Light party reflect your personal political goals? Which parts of the Neutral party’s and Dark party’s agenda do you disagree with? _Why_?”

James crossed his arms defiantly. “I support the same political goals as Professor Dumbledore does.”

Hadrian had already suspected that answer. “And which goals would that be? How did Headmaster Dumbledore place his vote on the last bill on the regulation of the international trading of the passiflora incarnata?”

“What are you talking about?” James asked him, staring at him disbelievingly. Next to him, Lady Potter seemed to struggle to decide between shouting at Hadrian and shushing her own son. “I don’t care about stupid flowers! I want to help with the war!”

There was a short moment of breathless silence. Hadrian wasn’t even sure which sentence baffled him more. Then he caught himself straightening in his chair, glaring at his cousin. “A stupid flower?! The passiflora incarnata is one of the main ingredients of the Dreamless Sleep potion, the Draught of Living Death, and many more sedatives! This flower is one of the main reasons why Dreamless Sleep is so addictive, and this bill is crucial in the fight against potion abuse! The implications of a possible leniency in trading volume for trauma victims alone are –“

“You sound like Snape.” James interrupted him with a groan.

Hadrian was on the brink of forgetting all of his manners. “If you are talking about your fellow Hogwarts student, Severus Snape, potions prodigy and published in various potions magazines starting at only fourteen, then I’m honoured for that comparison. But enough of that. What in Circe’s name did you mean with ‘I want to help with the war’?”

James straightened, smiling superiorly. “You might think you know so much, but Professor Dumbledore trusts me with much more important information. I know about the war between Light and Dark wizards, and I will do everything I can to support the Light side in the fight against evil!”

By now, Hadrian wasn’t the only one staring at James in disbelieve. The goblins hid their emotions very well, but Hadrian could see the discomfort in their black eyes. His mother, on the other hand, was openly sneering.

“You are nothing more than a little child who wants to play in a world of adults. You cannot even begin to understand what the words you are throwing around actually mean.” she hissed. “Light and Dark, evil, war. Those are not only words, and you should know better than use them so carelessly.”

Lady Potter, who had been staring proudly at her son, turned and glared at Dorea Potter. “Don’t you dare speak to my son like that! He’s the future Head of the House!”

“Is he?” Hadrian’s mother asked sweetly, her voice dripping with venom.

Hadrian ignored them all and looked at his sulking cousin pensively. He had to make a decision, because if he had understood the goblins correctly, he himself was the rightful heir of the Potter Lordship. Hadrian had never been officially cast out of the family, and he certainly hadn’t been disowned. Mainly because the rest of the family had never deemed him important enough for any kind of attention from their side, but those were simply details. Fact was that Hadrian was born into the main line of the Potter family, and therefore, he would be able to simply claim the Lordship title in this very moment.

But was it really the right decision?

He would make enemies, no doubt. Mainly among the Light side of the government, and he would have to be cautious of Dumbledore. Lady Potter and James would hate him with their whole being, and their friends and allies would take their sides. But with James’ display until now, Hadrian doubted that his cousin had acquired many allies, if any at all. He seemed to be the kind of guy who had a few close friends, feeling better than anyone else.

They would accuse him of stealing the title. Of being selfish and unprepared for the role. A sixteen years old in the Wizengamot? They would laugh at him and never let him speak. But he couldn’t just leave his seats in the hands of someone else, like James had obviously planned to do with Dumbledore as his proxy.

 _Was_ he acting selfish? Hadrian wasn’t sure. Of course he loved the idea of claiming the Lordship of the family which had denied him their homes until know. In some way, he wanted to do it for his father more than for himself. But he had to take a step back and think rationally. Responsibly. Which decision would bring more benefit for the Wizarding World?

Hadrian looked up and watched James argue with the goblins. His voice was loud and arrogant, his behaviour towards the goblins demeaning. He glanced towards his mother instead. Dorea Potter was watching her son with proud eyes, a small smile on her lips as if she already knew his final decision.

He returned the smile and turned towards the goblins. Brighthax was listening to James with a barely covered frown, but Ragnok was watching him with a sharp grin on his face. Hadrian’s smile threatened to transform into a grin, but he managed to control himself.

“I would like to claim the Potter Lordship.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are more surprises at Gringotts and secrets hidden in the attic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! If anyone lives somewhere where it is already the 12th of December - well. For me it is only 8:30 pm so I definitely didn't miss the deadline :D
> 
> Disclaimer: q.v. Chapter1

The silence in the large office was soothing after the ear-piercing shrieks Lady Potter – soon to be Mrs. Potter – had produced when she had been politely asked to leave by two goblin guards casually holding mean looking axes. James had gone more quietly, but the poisonous glares he had directed at Hadrian had promised revenge. Hadrian was looking forward to finding out what his cousin would come up with.

Now, he and his mother were seated face to face with Ragnok and Brighthax, who both seemed to loosen up a little bit. As much as goblins were able to loosen up anyway. Their grins were showing more sharp teeth than most humans would be comfortable with.

“Please let us goblins from Gringotts be the first to congratulate you to your new Lordship title, Heir Potter.” Ragnok said with a respectful nod.

Hadrian accepted the well wishes and the new form of address, however he couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you very much, but I believe I will only really believe it after the ritual was successfully performed. As we just now experienced, sometimes they do not work out as one should expect.”

“I do not think we will experience similar complications again, Heir Potter.” Brighthax grinned. “But might I suggest that we perform a complete inheritance test first in order to prepare for other possible surprises? Your cousin never deemed it necessary as he was told by his parents about his inheritance.”

“The fee for the inheritance test would be added to the fee for the Lordship ritual, I assume?” Hadrian asked with a small smirk. “But I do agree that it sounds like a reasonable idea. Can we perform the test right now?”

Brighthax muttered an affirmative, already conjuring another piece of parchment and casting the goblin-equivalent of a purifying charm on the ritual knife. Since it was the same person using it, they would not need to use a new knife. All without a wand, Hadrian noted with a small smile. In that regard he had more in common with goblins than with his own mother.

Meanwhile, Ragnok turned to the silently watching woman next to Hadrian.

“Mrs. Potter, do you wish to formerly adapt the title of ‘Lady Potter’? As the widow of the rightful Lord Potter and the mother of the soon to be announced new Lord Potter, you have every right to the title.”

Hadrian watched his mother as she appeared to carefully weight her options. Then, her posture as straight and proud as always, she slowly shook her head. “No, thank you Master Ragnok. I believe I will keep my current name.”

She didn’t volunteer any reason, but as her eyes met those of her son, Hadrian could see it clearly in her eyes. She had never married Charlus Potter for his family or for a possible title. She had married him for love and had proudly carried the title of ‘Mrs. Potter’ ever since. Seeing her son now claim the Lordship title was enough to satisfy her inner need of revenge.

Hadrian smiled and reached over to gently squeeze his mother’s hand. Then he picked up the ritual knife once more, this time with much less nervous anticipation. He didn’t expect this test to reveal much other than his claim of the Potter Lordship.

Again, drops of his blood seemed to seep into the thick parchment without leaving any trace. The parchment glowed golden for a second, before line after line of writing appeared. The goblins glanced at each other, Ragnok saying something in Gobbledegook and Brighthax nodding sharply. Ignoring them, Hadrian could sense his mother leaning forward beside him, reading the result of the inheritance test.

_Name: Hadrian Rigel Potter_

_Father: Charlus Henry Potter_

_Mother: Dorea Potter, née Black_

_Current Title:_

_Heir Potter_

_Claims:_

_Potter Lordship_

_Heir Peverell_

_Peverell Lordship (Peverell Heirship unclaimed)_

_Creature Inheritance:_

_none_

_Magical Inheritance:_

_Parseltongue (blocked, Peverell family magic)_

There was a list of properties and another for vaults, both of which were much longer than Hadrian had expected them to be. However, his mind was very much focused on another, much more surprising statement of the test.

“The Peverell Lordship?” he asked sharply, looking up to the suspiciously unfazed goblins. “That line has been dormant for centuries. The seat in the Wizengamot has never been claimed. How can I be the Peverell Heir?”

Ragnok grinned. “That knowledge might have been forgotten by your kind, but us goblins have very good memory – and even better bookkeeping.” Brighthax nodded, patting the ledgers and papers in front of him almost affectionally.

“After the older two of the three Peverell brothers both died tragic deaths without siring an Heir, the Lordship title was transferred to the line of the youngest brother. Ignotus Peverell was married and had children. I think it was his grandson, however, who rejected the Peverell name because of the family’s well-known affiliation with dark magic. Declaring himself a light wizard, the grandson married a light witch and took on her last name, Potter. Very unusual at that time – the Potters were barely a Noble House and the Peverells already a Most Ancient and Noble House. This has all happened quite a long time ago, of course, and since then the Potter House itself has become old and highly respected.”

Hadrian nodded. “What you say makes sense, but why has no Lord Potter ever claimed the Peverell Lordship? Even though it is true what you say about the Potter name, the Peverell family is one of the Olde families. The influence of the name alone is incomparable. A claiming of the Wizengamot seat would shake up the political climate quite substantially.”

Brighthax let out a harsh laugh. “Two reasons, Heir Potter. First, the Potter family has managed quite successfully to forget their dark influences. And second, since they managed just that, there has never been a dark Lord Potter. A light wizard would never be able to claim the Peverell Lordship.”

Hadrian glanced towards his mother who radiated a certain aura of smug complacency. It had been her family magic and her beliefs after all, which had helped shaping Hadrian into the wizard he was today. And he was quite content with his decidedly dark magical core. There had never been a question about which party of the Wizengamot he would support – or now, which one he would join.

“So the Peverell Lordship wouldn’t have shown up in James’ inheritance test? If he had taken one, that is.” he asked.

Brighthax nodded. “Yes. And we at Gringotts are quite happy to open those vaults once more. The investments have been dormant for far too long. The economy is ever changing, decisions need to be re-evaluated as soon as possible!”

It sounded like a lot of work, especially considering the long list of vaults the inheritance test had revealed, and Brighthax looked absolutely delighted.

“Brighthax, will you be the manager of the Peverell account as well?” Hadrian asked curiously.

The goblin grunted an affirmative. “Of course, if you wish for a different account manager, we will be happy to comply.” he grumbled, conveying rather the opposite of that statement.

Hadrian smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Oh no, I think we will be working well together.”

ᛋ

The Lordship ritual itself was rather anticlimactic after all the drama during the morning. The family magic of the Potter family accepted him with a warm embrace, while the magic of the Peverell family was seemingly overjoyed, leaving Hadrian’s magic singing even hours later. His magic didn’t feel much different, but he knew that over the next few days he would experience random power boosts as well as a certain added awareness of his new access to the family magic. The wards of all properties would recognize him as the head of the families, adding to the sudden flood of information he had to somehow keep in mind.

He wondered if the way he accessed his magic would change. Would he be able to use a wand? On one hand, it had been his greatest wish as a child to be able to do just that, but on the other hand… he flexed his hands and felt the familiar sensation of scars brushing against the inside pf his black gloves. On the other hand, he was proud of what his father and he had achieved. Of what his mother had taught him.

No matter what this new magic would grant him, he knew who he was, and he knew what his magic was. And Lord Hadrian Rigel Potter-Peverell did not need a wand, just like Hadrian Rigel Potter had never needed one.

After the ritual, the goblins granted him half an hour to recover until they once again met in the meeting room. Fortunately, they provided a light lunch, reminding Hadrian that he had been rudely dragged away from breakfast only a few hours earlier.

Throughout the whole meal Hadrian caught himself staring at the heavy Lordship ring on his left hand. He usually didn’t wear jewellery, and the cold metal on his finger was an unfamiliar and distracting sensation which he could feel clearly even through his thin leather gloves. In normal circumstances, a newly appointed Lord of a House had been wearing the Heir ring for many years already, but the Potter Heir ring had been owned by James. His cousin had been forced to leave the ring behind and it was now stored safely in the Potter Main Vault until Hadrian chose an Heir. Which was a thing he would have to do at one point.

He bit back a sigh.

Currently, the ring’s surface showed a simplified version of the Peverell’s coat of arms. The Peverell ring and the Potter ring had merged when he had slipped them on his finger together, with the Peverell’s sign remaining observable since it was the older House. However, Hadrian knew that a simple push of Potter family magic would change the surface of the ring to the Potter’s coat of arms if needed.

He would just have to figure out _how_ he would be able to actually use his families’ magics.

“Lord Potter-Peverell?”

Hadrian almost didn’t react to Ragnok’s call for his attention, but his mind managed to catch up with recent events and the fact that this was indeed his name, and he raised his head to meet the goblin’s eyes.

“Yes, Master Ragnok?”

“With your approval, I would suggest we look into the most immediate implications of your new status.” Ragnok said, pushing away an empty plate.

Hadrian quickly glanced at his mother’s plate. Seeing that she had finished eating as well, he agreed to the goblin’s proposal with a nod and a small smile. It was quite common to discuss these kinds of things with the goblins working directly for your family. Goblins valued honesty and loyalty – if you honoured your promise to pay for their services, they would protect your secrets. And they would often bluntly shove you into considering a new perspective when you were stuck thinking like a ... well, like a wizard.

“As far as I know, you are not a student at Hogwarts, is that correct, Lord Potter-Peverell?” Brighthax asked.

“Please, in these rooms you may simply call me Lord Potter.” Hadrian smiled. The title still sounded a bit awkward to his ears, and he knew he would need some time to adjust to his new last name. If he decided to reveal it any time soon, that was. “And yes, I was never a student at Hogwarts. I am home schooled.”

Brighthax nodded. “You should consider applying for a place at Hogwarts for the next term.” he said bluntly. “The people don’t know you. They’ve never even seen a picture of you, and for you to suddenly take over James Potter’s inheritance will cause quite a stir. Seeing you in the familiar role of a Hogwarts student would calm them significantly, no doubt.” The goblin sneered slightly, mentally comparing the wizarding public to a herd of panicked sheep.

Hadrian frowned and looked towards his mother. She appeared to be deep in thought, playing with a plain, silver bracelet around her left wrist.

“There are … circumstances which have prohibited my son’s attendance of Hogwarts till now. However, if my intuition is correct, these circumstances will look very different as soon as certain people find out about just who the new Lord Potter is.” Unwilling to reveal more to the goblins, she turned to Hadrian, mustering her son in silence for a moment.

“You will find the Hogwarts curriculum lacking. They will struggle with your … style of wielding magic.” she finally said. “But at least green and silver suit you.”

Hadrian sighed. “I will miss our lessons, mother.” he murmured quietly. Then, his voice stronger as he reminded himself that he wasn’t exactly in the privacy of his home, he added: “Though I’ll be delighted to get to know the halls you’ve spent so much time of your own childhood in. I’m not sure how warm the Slytherins’ welcome will be, however.”

His mother raised an eyebrow, looking at him with obvious amusement. “You might have the last name of a traditionally light family, but you’d do well to remind those children that your mother is a Black. You’ve been raised to deal with politically sensitive situations like this one, Hadrian, and I shall be most disappointed if you don’t find your place at the top of Slytherin’s hierarchy.”

Hadrian allowed a wide grin to light up his face for a moment. “I wouldn’t be able to bear the thought of your disappointment, dear mother mine. I shall make you proud and rule Slytherin as soon as possible.”

“Very good.” his mother nodded regally.

If his mother had been completely serious, Hadrian would have been just a little bit worried. He had been indeed taught how to deal with politically difficult situations, but a majority of those lessons had been theoretical. Fact was that he hadn’t been around people a lot. And most importantly, he hadn’t been around other children a lot.

If he was honest, Hadrian would rather deal with two Dumbledores at the same time than with a bunch of teenagers. He had read that teenagers tended to become more… unruly in groups. He had never been in a group with other teenagers. He had no idea if that was true or not.

What did teenagers and children even talk about??

It was a lot to worry about, but Hadrian knew that his mother was well aware of the fact that it wouldn’t be easy for him to integrate himself into the student boy of Hogwarts. Even, or maybe especially with the Slytherins, many of who had had similar lessons to his own in the course of their childhood.

The two goblins had followed the exchange with obvious amusement and some carefully hidden interest, but now Brighthax once again returned to business. “There’s only one problem I can see with this plan. As a student at Hogwarts it will be difficult for you to fulfil your duties as a Wizengamot member. Obviously it would be possible, though emergency meetings as well as the social engagements outside of official sessions would probably overlap with your classes and individual studies.” The goblin suddenly sneered. “Additionally, the majority of the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot won’t take a schoolboy seriously. I fear that your voice will be ignored and that your votes will be worth nothing. Those that won’t simply ignore you might think of you as an easily manipulated target.”

Hadrian nodded tightly. “You are right.” He sighed, frustrated and disappointed at the same time. “They won’t take a single word out of my mouth seriously. No matter what I’d do, they would always only see my age.”

Brighthax nodded sourly while Ragnok remained impassive. A few seconds passed with the silence brooding between them, before Hadrian forced himself to sit up straight once more.

“Well, there is no way around it. I cannot hide my identity in the Wizengamot chambers, and Hogwarts will simply have to deal with the fact that I have other obligations as well.” Hadrian said decisively. “I’m hardly the first student to unexpectedly inherit a Lordship title, and my mother has told me a few stories about Heirs being excused from their lessons for a day because they accompanied the Lord or Lady of their House to a Wizengamot session. As for not being taken seriously…” Hadrian shrugged, ignoring the pointed look of his mother at the uncouth gesture. “I won’t deny that I have political aspirations, but I am also well aware that I am sixteen years old. It is only natural for those who have many decades more of experience and knowledge to feel as if I do not have much to offer yet. To be frank, they would be correct.”

Hadrian looked at his Lordship ring, smiling a bit self-deprecating. “I am interested in politics and prepared for the Wizengamot in a way my cousin is decidedly not. But putting on this ring has not suddenly made me wise beyond my years and I will gain no favour from any Lord or Lady by pretending that it did.”

He looked up at the goblins. “I will claim my Potter seat in the Wizengamot and I will use these two years of being an underaged Lord of a Most Ancient and Noble House by watching others and by learning everything I can. If I can already push forward some of my ideas I might do so – carefully – and if others underestimate me simply because of my age, then that will be their failing and something I will remember.”

Brighthax seemed a bit disgruntled (had he expected Hadrian to immediately take over the whole Wizengamot?), but Ragnok nodded approvingly.

“Very well, Lord Potter. It is indeed wise to know when to sit back and observe and when to stand up and act. It is rare to have a youngling who is already aware of the importance of the distinction between those two.”

Hadrian smiled at the praise and relaxed a bit into his seat.

Ragnok, however, leaned a bit forward and stared him down with calculating eyes. “I couldn’t help but notice that you have not yet mentioned the role the Peverell Lordship will play in your plans.”

Hadrian glanced at his mother, not willing to discuss his plans and ideas in too much detail before he had a much needed, private discussion with her. A goblin’s sense of loyalty was a boon and nice to have, but family matters remained family matters. He turned to the goblin, stopping himself from fiddling with his gloves.

“I cannot say that I’ve had the chance to really think all this through, but I do not believe that it is necessary yet to publicly claim the Peverell Lordship.” he said slowly.

Brighthax actually huffed in surprise. “You are not planning to announce your second Lordship? But the Peverell name is older and more influential than the Potter name! You would have more opportunities in the Wizengamot as Lord Peverell than as Lord Potter!”

“Would I?” Hadrian asked. “I would be watched more closely, and I would probably have more alliance offers. More old wizards and witches trying to catch me in their web and make me their puppet. But I would still be a child to them. A child and a possible threat to their power. An unfortunate combination, if you ask me.” He shook his head. “No. I will only claim the Potter seat. And when I have more experience and have found true alliances, I will reveal my second Lordship. After all –“ and here he cocked an eyebrow smugly, “my young age gives me one invaluable advantage.”

Ragnok leaned back. “And what advantage would that be?”

Hadrian grinned widely. “Time, Master Ragnok. I have all the time in the world.”

ᛋ

> **LORDSHIP DENIED: JAMES POTTER DOES NOT INHERIT THE TITLE OF LORD POTTER**
> 
> **True Heir is revealed!**
> 
> The past few days haven’t been easy for the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, and our condolences and best wishes are with the grief-stricken family. However, even in these hard times do we have the duty to bring the truth to light.
> 
> Despite former claims by the late Fleamont Potter and his wife, Euphemia Potter, their son James Potter (currently sixteen years old and student at our beloved Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) is not the Heir of the Lordship title. But how could the three of them fool us for so long?
> 
> It is well known that Fleamont Potter had a twin, the tragically passed away Charlus Potter. While Fleamont Potter had been announced the older of the two, the inheritance ritual at Gringotts yesterday morning has revealed this to be a lie: Charlus Potter was the older twin and therefore the rightful Lord Potter!
> 
> Who could have been behind this carefully planned deception? Perhaps the then Lord of the House, Harold Potter, who was well known for his prejudice regarding magical power levels? As we all know, Charlus Potter showed very low levels of magic as a young child, which might have been the reason for the carefully constructed lie.
> 
> One could even say that Harold Potter had the right idea – Charlus Potter is after all known widely as the ‘Potter squib’ and has been cast out of the family at the age of twenty. The reason for this drastic step was never made public, but Charlus’ marriage with Dorea Black only two years later was suspected to be the main driver between the split of the traditionally light family. Now we have to consider whether the drastic step had been a cover up for the switch between the twins by Fleamont Potter. How much did the late fake-Lord Potter know?
> 
> Nothing much is known about the life of Charlus and Dorea Potter. They have been suspected to live in London, however various sources have pointed out connections to a possible house in Northern Ireland as well. Although the birth of their son had been announced on July 31st in 1980 (making their son sixteen years old as well), we don’t know anything about the young man except for his name.
> 
> Who is Lord Hadrian Rigel Potter? Will he take on his responsibilities as a Wizengamot member? With a light father and a dark mother – how will this mysterious young man influence the already turbulent political climate?
> 
> (Neither Lord Potter nor Mrs. Potter were available for a statement.)
> 
> _Written by: Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _See also:_
> 
> _p. 4: A full summary of Charlus Potter’s life_
> 
> _p. 5: Dorea and Cedrella Black: The white sheep of the Black family_
> 
> _p. 6: Rumours vs. facts: Was Charlus Potter a squib?_

“There are a lot of sensitive information in here, some of which this woman should not have access to.” Hadrian scowled as he put the copy of the Daily Prophet aside. “And ‘not available for a statement’ – ha, that woman hasn’t send us even a single letter.”

His mother hummed in agreement, carefully adding the correct amount of sugar (very little) to her morning tea. It was one of the few things she had never trusted the house elves with. “This Skeeter woman is known for her incredibly well-informed sources. You might want to consider investing into the Daily Prophet.”

Hadrian disliked the idea of intentionally influencing the public’s opinion of him, but he knew that there was no other way. Half of politics was favours, networking and bribes. He nodded silently and refocused on his breakfast.

“After you finish we will visit the attic. There is something I need to give you.”

Curious, but used to waiting patiently, Hadrian ate the rest of his scrambled eggs as quickly as possible while still maintaining an illusion of etiquette. As soon as he was finished, the empty plates vanished form the table. Standing quickly, Hadrian followed his mother through the foyer towards the large staircase. Their home was a lot smaller than the lavish manors so many pureblood families seemed to be in favour of. It definitely wasn’t large enough to house the Head of a pureblood family as old as the Potters. But Hadrian loved his home, with the sun-flooded sitting room and the secret pathway in the library. He had been raised by strict but loving parents, and every part of the house was connected to various happy memories of his childhood.

The high society would be shocked, but he knew that neither his mother nor he himself would ever consider any other place their home. Maybe later, when he had an own family… but he was getting ahead of himself.

He followed his mother up the narrow staircase which was hidden in a corner at the far end of the house. Hadrian knew that only family members by blood were able to even see the staircase, an additional protection besides numerous wards and spells. The artefacts and heirlooms hidden in the attic were some of their respective families’ most treasured possessions, and he was almost burning with the need to know what his mother wanted to show him.

Suddenly, his mother stopped in front of him, her body tense. Worried, Hadrian moved closer.

“Mother, are you –“

Dorea held up a slim but strong hand. Hadrian let himself be interrupted and waited silently for his mother to explain her tenseness.

“Achoo!”

Ah. Well, that explained it then. House elves weren’t allowed in the attic after all, and over the years, dust and dirt had made their home in the large space.

“ _Scourgify_.” he could hear his mother mutter with a miffed voice, and he couldn’t help but grin.

They entered the dark room with careful steps. A few cleaning spells later, Hadrian found himself staring at a small, onyx box. He couldn’t remember ever seeing it before.

“The content of this box is one of the best kept secrets of our family.” his mother said gravely. “And with family I only mean your father, me and now you as well. Your father worked on it for decades, trying to work against time and ultimately realising that he would never be able to use it for himself. But he found some peace at the end because he knew that you could use his creation and escape a similar fate.” Dorea glanced at him. “Of course we have found a different solution to your _loci magi_ problem since then, my dear. But with everything that has happened in the last few hours, I believe you would benefit from having this.”

Hadrian nodded, staring at the closed box in anticipation. He knew that his father had worked every day for an endless number of years to find a way to connect with his slowly withdrawing magical core. And when Hadrian had been born and had shown the same signs of an inability to ever use a wand or even call forth his magic in form of accidental magic despite having an active magical core, Charlus Potter had been determined to spare his son from being society’s pariah as he himself had become.

His mother waved her wand in a slow, circular pattern, muttering a long incarnation beneath her breath. The box glowed white for a second before settling again. Taking out a ritual knife, Dorea then proceeded to cut her thumb, smearing a few drops of blood on the lock of the mysterious metal box.

Hadrian watched with baited breath as the box glowed once again before opening with a sharp snap. His mother leaned forward, the cut on her thumb already healed, and lifted the black lid carefully.

Inside, laying on top of a bed of green silk, laid a black, wide bracelet. It looked wide enough to cover a third of Hadrian’s underarm and was crafted from thin, smooth metal. Hadrian narrowed his eyes, following the elegant carvings which covered the whole surface of the bracelet and which looked almost... hollow.

“It’s beautiful.” Hadrian whispered in awe.

Dorea nodded. “Yes, it truly is. Of course Charlus didn’t have any input in regards to the design – artefacts such as this one choose their own form as you know very well. But even more important than its design is that it’s incredibly powerful as well. Magical artefacts are just like spouses, my dear son. Looks aren’t everything.”

Blushing lightly, Hadrian chuckled. “Yes, mother, you like to remind me of that quite frequently.”

Satisfied with his answer, Dorea took out the bracelet carefully, holding it with both hands. “This, Hadrian, is something the Unspeakables would likely kill their own parents for to get their hands on it. Its creation has been attempted over and over again but to our knowledge, Charlus was the first to succeed in making a functioning prototype.”

Hadrian gaped at her silently, ignoring the fact that his behaviour was socially unacceptable. “He succeeded where countless Unspeakables failed? But – well, I know that father was a genius, but he was also only one man. How...”

His mother smiled grimly, her dark hair curling around her serious face. “A matter of the right incentive, good connections and no doubt a healthy portion of luck. And of course the fact that he could use himself as a test subject.”

Dorea lifted the bracelet out of the box and gave it Hadrian for a closer inspection. “You’ve noticed the carvings of course. Did you also notice how they are slightly elevated compared to the surface of the rest of the bracelet? Besides looking pretty, these carvings are the true treasure of the artefact. The lines are hollow and can be used for storing magic – pure magic.”

Hadrian’s head snapped up and he stared at his mother with wide eyes. “ _Pure_ magic?” he repeated unbelievingly. “But... pure magic can only be stored in the magical core of a living being. It’s – it’s _impossible_ to store pure magic outside of a – there have been successes in storing _spells_ , but...” He looked down at his father’s work in his hands. “This should be impossible.”

“Well, I knew what I was doing when I asked your father to court me.” his mother said smugly. “As he liked to say, ‘If something is impossible –“

“’- you simply haven’t found out how to make it possible yet.’” Harry finished the quote with a smile. His father had truly taken to living in defiance of life itself sometimes. Charlus had never grown out of that stage where you questioned everything, where you heard something and your first thought was ‘why?’. Both Dorea and Hadrian had adored him for it, though Hadrian suspected that his father might have driven a few professors at Hogwarts into contemplating early retirement.

“Exactly.” Dorea took the bracelet from him and put it back into the box. “Now let’s take this into the blue room and discuss the artefact and everything else like civilised people: sitting down and enjoying a cup of tea.”

Hadrian laughed and agreed, following his mother out of the attic with a last glance around the room.

They made their way to the cosy tea room, its large windows and calming blue walls making it a favourite of Dorea. Hadrian preferred the much darker reading area of their library, the closeness of the large shelves giving him a feeling of being enveloped and safe. But he liked to indulge his mother and sat down in one of the armchairs placed around a small, round table.

“Ellie.” his mother called out softly.

One of their two house elves popped up beside them immediately, her bright eyes shining as she smiled at Dorea.

“Mistress Dorea and Master Hadrian be liking some tea?” Ellie asked. “And maybe some cake too?” she added, glancing slyly at Hadrian.

Hadrian smiled self-deprecatingly. His sweet tooth really was no secret in his home.

“That would be perfect, thank you Ellie.” Dorea nodded. “And if you could ask Gilly to check upon our wards, it would be much appreciated. I wouldn’t be surprised if dear Euphemia attempted to send us a couple of Howlers in the next few days and I want to ensure that the owl wards are still strong.”

Ellie nodded, her ears flapping with the strength of her agreement and disappeared with a quiet ‘pop’.

Hadrian smiled at the spot where Ellie had just disappeared from. House elves were one of the races he had been in direct contact with the earliest who were sentient beings capable of magic but unable to use a wand. Was it surprising that he felt a certain kinship to them? Definitely not, especially seeing as he hadn’t made a lot of very good experiences with the few, carefully selected members of his own kind he had met as a child. He had always been the son of the ‘Potter squib’ to them, worthless because he grew older and older and yet he showed no signs of accidental magic.

Wizards and witches were so incredibly fast at tying worth to the ability to use magic in the exact way they had deemed the right way hundreds of years ago. And thus beings such as house elves, veelas, centaurs, goblins and many other magical races were seen as inferior simply because they were different.

And they had become so comfortable in that mindset as well. Sneering openly at the goblins managing their money, treating their house elves as nothing more than household slaves. It was horrible and Hadrian wished he could change it overnight. But it would probably take years and tiny step after step for change to come.

At least he would save time because of his unexpected acquisition of a Lordship title.

A tea set appeared on the table between them, hot steam escaping the already filled tea cups and a platter of small cakes and unsweetened biscuits inviting them to spoil their lunch.

“Thank you Ellie.” Hadrian said out loud, his mother echoing the sentiment, placing the box with the bracelet to the side. Then, she looked at him pointedly, gesturing to the tea cups.

“Now, son of mine. Shall we enjoy our well-deserved cup of spite before beginning to make plans or afterwards?”

Hadrian thought for a moment. “I believe we should enjoy it first, mother. Who knows how long we’ll be scheming and we might want to start implementing some of those plans immediately afterwards. Better to enjoy the satisfaction first.”

Dorea nodded with an open smile and reached forward to lift the cup to her mouth and take a small sip of the steaming hot beverage. Hadrian trusted Ellie to have put sugar in his own tea already and took a small sip as well. His eyes met with those of his mother and they immediately started grinning widely.

“Euphemia’s face! It couldn’t have happened to a more ghastly witch, truly I’ll be using the memory for sweet dreams tonight.” Dorea crooned happily.

Hadrian laughed. “Did you see the faces of Ragnok and Brighthax when they were finally able to send out my dear aunt? Like Yule had come early.”

“And that James! What have those two fools be teaching him, I wonder?” Dorea shook her head. “His robes alone – they looked more like dress robes than mourning robes. At least they were black, but _really_ -“

“I agree that they were bad but did you see that Euphemia’s robes literally had the Potter Crest stitched over and over into the arms? The audacity! On _mourning robes_!”

“That bitch probably didn’t even wait for her husband’s corpse to return to Potter Manor from St. Mungos before dragging her son to Gringotts. Absolutely shameful.”

Hadrian took another sip, allowing himself to feel as spiteful and smug as he wanted. “All these years James made sure that I knew just how much better he was in every aspect, according to him of course. The look on his face when he realised that I truly had the claim to the Lordship. Finally, the time to grow up has come for that arrogant prick.”

“I see you two are having fun.” a dry voice interrupted their crowing.

“Darling!” Dorea said gleefully. She glanced at her teacup, taking the last, long sip and stood up to walk towards the painting her husband had just entered. “Darling, your pathetic whelp of a brother has _stolen_ your Lordship title! You were the older one, Charlie, and look how they treated you!”

Hadrian mournfully realised that his cup was empty as well. Time to leave the bitching behind. He looked up and had to suppress a laugh when he realized just how agitated his mother looked as she stared at the portrait of his father. The latter tended to fall asleep sometimes (as many portraits did) and it was impossible to wake him up. They hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday’s breakfast, and obviously a few things of interest had happened since then.

His father seemed to wonder whether his wife’s tea had been spiked with something a bit more fiery, but the look on Hadrian’s face convinced him that Dorea had told the truth.

“Was I really? Huh, how about that.” he mused, awfully composed for someone who had just learned that he’d been denied his birthright by the family that had all but thrown him away. But then again portraits usually weren’t able to truly internalize new information. They were a snapshot of the person they had been at the time their portrait had been created, and they normally struggled with evolving further than that. His father’s portrait could acknowledge the information that he had been the rightful Heir of his father, and he would probably remember it, but he wouldn’t be able to emotionally react to the news.

Dorea, it seemed, was very willing to react emotionally enough for both of them. She was about to start a new tirade against the Potter family, but a meaningful look of Charlus at the teacup in her hands prevented it.

“Your cup of spite is empty, my dear.”

Dorea glanced down at the empty teacup and huffed. “So it appears.” She looked up at the fond face of her husband and sighed. “Oh but Charles, this truly is terribly upsetting. How could Fleamont lie so blatantly into your face?”

Charles hmmed, moving from his current frame to one closer to the small table Hadrian was still sitting on. Dorea followed him, her eyes fixed on her husband.

“Did the goblins say anything about Flea performing an inheritance test?” he asked.

Hadrian smirked at the use of his uncle’s hated nickname. At least that was the reason Charlus told him he used it so often: his brother had detested nothing more than to be called by that name.

“Apparently he didn’t see a reason to.” Hadrian told his father. “When grandfather got sick he simply made Fleamont the Acting Head of the House, and apparently Fleamont was able to claim the Lordship after grandfather’s death without the Lordship ritual.”

Dorea nodded. “He sent us that terribly uncouth letter after he claimed it, do you remember, Charles? If I recall it correctly, however, he waited the appropriate two weeks after the death of Harold before going to Gringotts. No need for a ritual like Euphemia demanded for her son – Fleamont simply had to prove that his father had named him his Heir. The Potter family magic wasn’t asked.”

“Do you think Fleamont knew that he wasn’t the Heir by birthright?” Hadrian asked them both.

Charles sighed. The picture he was currently in showed a sun-lit terrace with a few chairs scattered around it, and he sat down in one of them, deep in thought.

“He might have suspected it.” he said after a short moment. “Obviously, my brother had no part in the fabrication of the lie. But maybe...” Charles shrugged. “Flea never showed a true connection to the Potter family magic. The Potter Manor didn’t exactly like him, and the house elves were... confused by him. So yes, I believe Flea might have suspected something.”

And with Charlus’ non-cooperating magical core even at young age, his own connection to the Potter family magic would not have been very noticeable either.

“I just...” Hadrian glared at the empty cup in his hand, placing it down on the table because _Kenaz_ was sometimes a little bit overexcited. It had pulled his attention towards his hands, however, and he noticed with slight surprise that he was still wearing the gloves. He normally took them off inside the house, but the feeling of wearing them had become so natural to him that he sometimes forgot about them. He carefully pulled them off now, noticing with a small huff that _Kenaz_ was indeed bleeding a bit.

“Is he acting up again?” his mother asked, leaning a bit closer to get a good look of the rune on the base of Hadrian’s left thumb.

Hadrian nodded. “May I let him burn for a bit to get rid of the excess energy?”

“You may.” Dorea said. “But use the teapot – you might as well practice your control at the same time.”

Hadrian pouted a bit – he preferred to simply let an open flame dance across his hand when something like this happened. But he obediently picked up the teapot with his right hand and placed it carefully in the centre of his left hand’s palm. Then, he activated _Kenaz_ with a small whisper, the rune glowing golden as he concentrated on creating heat instead of fire and keeping the teapot at a consistent temperature.

“Very good.” Charles praised him with a small smile. Hadrian returned the smile brightly, always feeling almost ridiculously proud when his father praised his use of magic.

“Indeed. Now keep that up while you finish that thought you were distracted from by that little troublemaker.”

Hadrian laughed at the words of his mother, straining to remember what he had been about to say before the fire rune had claimed his attention.

“Right.” he said, shifting in his seat a bit uncomfortably. “I was just thinking that... I just don’t understand why grandfather would lie like this. How could he have known about your magic, father? You and your brother were only a few days old, how could he have known –“

“Known that my magical core would become more passive with every year, leaving me struggling to complete my Hogwarts education and unable to access my magic and with that basically a squib at thirty-five?” his father ended the sentence for him, bitterness coating his voice for a moment.

Hadrian nodded silently.

Charlus stood up again, the portrait experiencing an echo of the same restlessness its original had felt in regards to this topic. “He couldn’t have known.” he said, moving the chairs around on the terrace in an order which made sense only to him. “My father despised weakness in all forms. When I was born smaller than my brother and didn’t make a sound for the first few days, he was quick to establish which one of us was worthy to be his Heir. And of course he felt affirmed in his choice when it became clear years later that Flea’s magic was much stronger than mine.”

“Easier to access, maybe.” Dorea immediately corrected her husband. “But definitely not stronger, darling.”

“Whatever you say, Rea.” Charlus accepted her words with a smile. He turned to his son with a rueful look. “I had never any reason to fight my brother’s claim to the Lordship. But if I had known that you would have been involved in such a convoluted and unexpected way... I would have prepared you better. I would have tried harder to re-establish myself in society to help ease your way into the good graces of those stuck-up buggers. I’m sorry, Hadrian. I’m afraid I have left you to fighting some of my own battles.”

“Father, no.” Hadrian immediately stood up, the teapot in his hand overheating for a second before he had the temperature back under control. He took a step towards the painting, wishing that he could simply step into one of his father’s comforting and warm hugs instead.

“You wanted nothing to do with them and still you taught me everything I needed to know about our family and the duties of the Lord of House Potter. How could we have known I would actually have to fulfil those duties? Thanks to you and mother I won’t horribly embarrass myself in the Wizengamot and while it will change our plans I don’t believe it will make them more difficult, necessarily.”

“This reminds me.” Dorea spoke up suddenly. “Charles, you’ve made a very good decision when you married me.”

Charlus laughed, the sound surprised and delighted and immediately lifting the sombre atmosphere. “I believe it was you who cornered me in Hogsmead and demanded that we stop dancing around and that I should initiate a courtship already.”

“Details.” Dorea sniffed. “Important is that our Hadrian has a beautifully strong, _dark_ magical core, and it has led to a dual Lordship.”

“Really?” Charlus looked back towards his son. “What would your core have to do with the inheritance?”

Hadrian grinned. “Well, the Peverell family magic is a bit ... picky, and it would only choose a Potter Heir with a dark core. And apparently I was the first to fulfil that requirement.”

“The Peverell Lordship?!” Charlus blindly grabbed one of the chairs and sat down again. It was one of the most emotional displays Hadrian had ever observed his father’s portrait making. “Blimey, Hadrian, do you think you could carry my portrait with you into the Wizengamot? I want to see the face of that idiot, Perrington Bulstrode, when you announce yourself as Lord Peverell. He was always talking about his great-great-grandmother or something being a Peverell and how they were the only living descendants of that family.”

Hadrian laughed but shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit for that, father. I’m not planning on announcing the Peverell Lordship just yet.”

Dorea carefully took one of the sugar free biscuits and dipped it into her tea. “It will be our hidden ace. Right now the other Wizengamot members will simply see Hadrian as an easily influenceable school boy, saddled with a Lordship he doesn’t understand the importance of. But they would be hounding him if they knew that he was also Lord Peverell.”

Charlus nodded slowly. “This means that you have already claimed the Lordship but you simply won’t announce it?” he asked his son to clarify.

“Exactly.” Hadrian said. He put down the teapot and examined _Kenaz_ critically. The temperamental rune seemed to have quieted down, his magic flowing contently through his body. He stopped feeding his magic into the rune and _Kenaz_ glowed golden once more before fading into a red scar. As Hadrian watched, blood welled up from the thin cuts and stared to trickle down his thumb.

While his mother relayed the rest of the conversation with the goblins to his father, Hadrian fished out a stark-white handkerchief out of a pocket of his robe. He carefully pressed it on the open wound and made sure to wipe up every single drop of blood. When the rune stopped bleeding and his hand was cleaned up, he brushed his left thumb lightly against one of the blood stains on the handkerchief and then pressed his thumb against the small Potter Crest stitched into one of the corners of the white cloth. As soon as his blood touched the Crest, all of the blood, including the last remains on his thumb, disappeared from the handkerchief, leaving only blinding white cloth behind.

Tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket, Hadrian noted with a small frown that he was feeling a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t eaten a lot for breakfast today and he hadn’t taken a blood-replenishing potion either. Thinking back to his training fight yesterday morning (and didn’t that feel like forever ago?), he resolved to eat a large dinner and go to sleep early.

Realising she had the attention of her son back, Dorea summoned a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill.

“There are too many things to do and to remember.” she said, gesturing for Hadrian to move his chair closer. “For now, let’s make a list and then we’ll prioritize.”

Hadrian nodded, looking at the parchment and then suddenly remembering the black box his mother had placed... somewhere... in the room.

“Father’s artefact.” he said. “That should be on the list.” From the painting, his father’s portrait made an approving sound.

Dorea nodded, noting the point down. “The artefact is directly tied to your presence in Hogwarts – well, anytime you spend a long while in public performing magic, really.” she said, writing a few more things down.

In the end, the list looked intimidatingly long:

  * _Charlus’ artefact_
  * _Hogwarts_
    * _Let Dumbledore come to us_
    * _Contingency plan: runes_
    * _Contingency plan: blood_
    * _How to handle James_
    * _Write letter to Argus_
  * _Wizengamot_
    * _File announcement intention_
    * _Attend August session? (Mourning period!)_
  * _Potter Lordship_
    * _Account statements_
    * _Vassals (still Finnegan and Perks?)_
    * _Alliances? / Feuds?_
  * _Peverell Lordship_
    * _All information_
    * _Find a snake_
  * _Society_
    * _Introduction_
    * _Daily Prophet interview?_



“There are probably a few things we are forgetting, but those will be dealt with when they occur to us.” Dorea said as she put down the quill.

“’Find a snake.’” Hadrian read out loud. “Just for the fun of it?” he asked drily.

His mother didn’t look too impressed. “For you to test your new magical ability, of course.” As Hadrian simply looked at her with a confused frown, she sighed. “Parseltongue, my obtuse son. It came up in your inheritance test, don’t you remember?”

“I honestly forgot all about that.” Hadrian admitted sheepishly. “Do you think I’ll be able to speak Parseltongue even with my ... style of magic?”

“Only one way to find out.” his mother told him. “But those experiments can wait. For now, let’s take another look at your father’s work.”

Hadrian threw an excited smile into the direction of his father’s portrait, the latter returning the smile proudly. Dorea summoned the box with a non-verbal _Accio_ , putting it on the table between them and making sure that her husband could see it as well.

The bracelet looked even more beautiful in the sunlight. Hadrian reached for it, waiting for the nod of his mother before he carefully took it into his hands and examined it from all sides.

“You said that I will be able to store pure magic in these, right?” he asked, his finder tracing the elaborate, hollow lines carved into the black metal.

“Exactly.” his father confirmed his mother’s earlier words. “I know that it works – I had a few small successes back when I was still able to pull some of my magic out of my magical core. We will have to experiment a bit to see how we can extract _your_ pure magic, but we should be able to do that before you leave for Hogwarts.”

Dorea cupped her smaller hands around his, looking at him insistently. “At Hogwarts, you will have to perform magic much more frequently and sometimes unexpectedly. We cannot have you fainting every other class, so it is essential that you have an alternative source from where you can draw your magic. But I know that I do not have to tell you have important it is that you do not tell anyone about this. Not about your father’s artefact, not about your magical core, not about the runes on your hands.”

Hadrian nodded silently.

His mother squeezed his hands gently and looked at him with stern eyes. “I trust you to use the artefact carefully and responsibly.”

“I won’t betray your trust.” Hadrian replied earnestly.

“I know.” Dorea said, looking at her son affectionately. He had grown up so fast, and sometimes she wished they could go back to the time when he had been a carefree, little boy. But he had grown up so well, and every day it seemed he strived to make her even prouder, so she didn’t actually mind his fast approach of adulthood too much.

“Now, take the bracelet with your left hand and press it against the wrist of your right hand. It will recognize you and open for you.”

Hadrian took the black bracelet carefully, mindful of the delicate looking carvings. Slowly, he pressed the cold metal against his skin, and watched with awe as it heated up and suddenly appeared to melt. It didn’t burn his skin, but seeing the metal mould itself around his underarm was still mildly disturbing. The bracelet finally regained its solid state, fitting snugly around his wrist and covering almost half of his underarm. Hadrian tried to move his arm and hand and smiled when he realized that the artefact didn’t restrict his movements at all. Although the metal looked and felt solid, it seemed to move along with his movements like silk. He decided that he liked the feeling very much and grinned happily at his mother.

She chuckled, closing the box and ruffling his hair with a fast hand. She liked to remind him sometimes (only in the privacy of their home, of course) that his black hair was the perfect mix between the Potter hair (an untameable mess) and the Black hair (long, with the occasional curls). Hadrian’s shoulder-length hair was able to fall around his face in perfect waves, but it much preferred to adapt the state of an electrocuted cleaning mop. His father had called it ‘a tragic coincidence’ and his mother to this day called it ‘hilarious’. Hadrian pretended to hate it, but he really loved his hair. Simply by deciding for or against brushing it for ten minutes, he could choose between looking like a Back or a Potter.

“I’m glad you like it.” Charlus said, watching him fondly as he made himself familiar with his father’s invention. “But unfortunately you will need to buy some kind of leather bracelet to cover it up. Or invest into longer gloves. You cannot be seen with something so obviously magical, and a glamour to hide the bracelet from everyone would only attract the attention of magically sensitive people.”

Such as Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and unofficial leader of the Light, as well as Lord Slytherin, Professor of Defense at Hogwarts and official leader of the Dark, Hadrian’s mind supplied. Exactly the kind of people whose attention he didn’t need.

“Yes, father.” he agreed immediately.

“Very good.” Dorea said contently. “Now, before we do anything else, you need to eat something, Hadrian. Those cakes don’t count, you can’t live off only sugar. And then, we’ll start with the fun part of the list.”

“Snakes?” Hadrian guessed with a small smile.

“Snakes.” his mother confirmed with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Runes:**  
>  ᚲ Kenaz: fire, creativity, inspiration, fire of regeneration, power of light. Hadrian can use it for creating a flame in his hand, but also for generating heat. He could also, for example, use it like _Lumos_
> 
> Today we learned that Dorea likes to call her husband "Charlie" or "Charles" and he likes to call her "Rea" when he is **_fond_**. In other news both Hadrian and me are soft for them.
> 
> I hope you liked it! Thank you so much for over 100 kudos already, and especially a huge thanks to anyone who commented on the first chapter! I'm really glad to see that people are liking this idea :) Also, I wanted to quickly point out the "no character bashing" tag. If you love James, don't worry. He won't have it easy, but he won't be senseless dickhead in this story either. 
> 
> I was super busy this last week because I found a flat (yay!), but the next update should nevertheless be up on Friday, 25th of December. 
> 
> All the best, Sky


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a snake, an abundance of cups and an abundance of question marks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still the 25th! I'm not late (I'm a little bit late. Work was hell this week and it turns out that the holidays aren't exactly the perfect time to write a few more pages.). Also, I only proofread this once. So... consider this an early apology for every typo.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little Christmas gift :) Happy holidays to everyone!!
> 
> Last time: Hadrian accepts the Potter and the Peverell Lordship. After a few laughs about the look on Euphemia and James' faces, Hadrian and his parents plan their next steps. Something which could help Hadrian with his magic in the public eye is an invention of his own father - but they aren't sure yet if it actually works.
> 
> Disclaimer: q.v. Chapter 1

There was a spell for summoning a snake.

Not even just a spell for summoning any animal, which you then had to make more specific by adding ‘ _serpentem_ ’. No, there was an actual spell which’s only function was to summon a snake from... a random place.

Sometimes the way wizards and witches used magic was bloody weird, Hadrian thought.

“Can you specify which kind of snake you want to summon?” he asked his mother, who was still reading through the explanation of the spell in the _Book of Spells_ by Miranda Goshawk. She had tried to recall it by memory but after a few minutes she had admitted that even as a Slytherin there had been no occasions so far in her life which had required of her to summon a snake.

Hadrian had known better than to smugly point out that for _his_ style of magic, he didn’t need to remember countless nonsensical incantations. His mother probably wouldn’t have considered that a valuable contribution to their endeavour, for some reason.

“I mean, what if you want to summon a small garden snake and instead you accidentally summon a basilisk?” Hadrian wondered.

“Apparently, you have to picture the kind of snake you want to summon while you cast the spell.” Dorea said. “And the theory behind it says that the spell chooses the snake depending on three variables: the picture you have of the snake, the distance of all snakes to your current position and the amount of snakes available from all species. Since we aren’t specifically thinking of a basilisk, there are presumably no basilisks in close distance to us and there are only very few basilisk alive right now, I believe the chance of summoning a basilisk with _Serpensortia_ is very low.”

Hadrian supposed that sounded sensible enough and made a vague gesture towards the rows of bookshelves surrounding them. “And you are sure we can do this here? What if the snake becomes aggressive?”

Dorea snapped the book shut after once more practicing the wand movement. “Then you’ll simply have to convince it to calm down.” She lifted her wand, pointing at the floor between them.

“But I don’t know how to say _anything_ in Parseltongue!” Hadrian protested. He was ignored by his mother who seemed much more excited about his potential new ability than he was.

“Oh hush, Hadrian. You know I’ve always supported the ‘learning by doing’ method.” Dorea said with a smile before focusing on the spell and clearly pronouncing “ _Serpensortia!_ ”.

The body of a snake seemed to grow out of her wand and fell down on the floor of the library. Hadrian’s first thought was worrying about whether or not the snake had gotten hurt – his second thought was why his mother had chosen to summon such a bloody _big_ snake.

_“Danger! Danger! Nest? No nest! Hide? Attack? Hide? Attack? Attack!”_

_“It’s okay, we mean you no harm!”_ Hadrian reflexively said in order to calm the frightened animal down. Then he realised that he had understood every word the snake had said, and seeing as the animal immediately swung around to stare at him with piercing black eyes, the snake had understood him as well. But Hadrian had spoken English, hadn’t he?

 _The snake speaks English_ , Hadrian almost said in surprise, before quickly correcting himself. The snake probably spoke... well, Parseltongue, but apparently that language worked in a way no other language worked. Hadrian perceived the words as English, but the snake probably heard him talk in ... non-English. Was Parseltongue even an actual language, or was it simply the ability to translate the words into another language which you already knew?

 _“Snake? ... Weird snake. Tall snake. Strong snake?”_ The animal hissed as it approached Hadrian slowly. Then, without any warning, the snake lunged forward and snapped at him.

Hadrian flinched backwards, cursing loudly and activating _Algiz_ with a panicked thought. The rune burned a bit as it glowed golden, and a shimmering barrier appeared between him and the snake.

 _“Tastes like fear.”_ the snake hissed proudly. “ _Weak snake. No danger.”_

Well, that was a bit embarrassing.

Hadrian ignored the look his mother was throwing at him from a few feet away and tried to appear as unconcerned as possible.

 _“You can understand me, right?”_ he asked the snake, paying attention to how his mouth was actually moving as it formed the words. He was surprised to find that he stumbled over the words because while he had thought that he was speaking in English, his mouth actually formed... hisses? Was he hissing? Merlin, he probably looked like a complete moron.

The snake had the audacity to look at Hadrian as if he was a particularly slow snake. _“You speak snake.”_ it simply said.

Well, that was enough of a confirmation for Hadrian. They could figure out the details and practicalities of using Parseltongue at a later time, but it was relieving to know that he was able to use a wizard family’s magical gift even if he wasn’t per definition a wizard.

 _“We are sorry for disturbing you. Do you wish to return to your ... nest?”_ Hadrian asked.

The snake bobbed its head up and down in excitement. _“Nest! Nest!”_

Hadrian looked up to his mother who was watching them closely. _“Can you return the snake to where it came from?”_

His mother chuckled. “In English please, Hadrian.”

Hadrian frowned. He hadn’t even noticed that he was still speaking Parseltongue. He would have to practice the use of that language – to ensure that he didn’t end up accidentally answering a professor’s question in Parseltongue instead of in English.

He tried to ignore the snake and concentrated on his mother. _One, two three, four..._ he counted in his head, counting up to ten in what he was almost completely sure was English, before asking the same question again.

This time, he could feel his mouth forming the correct words and his mother nodded with an understanding smile. A whispered spell and a flick of her wand later, the snake had disappeared from their library floor.

The silence between them was interrupted by Dorea snapping the book in her hands shut with a low _thud_. Hadrian twitched at the sound and a short stab of pain in his right hand reminded him of the rune which was still active.

 _Algiz_ seemed reluctant to inactivate, but Hadrian coaxed her into calming down and after a few seconds the rune turned dormant with only a few trickles of blood left behind as a prove of its recent activation.

Wiping away the blood with his handkerchief and cleaning it required barely a thought – these motions came automatically to Hadrian by now.

“How are you feeling?”

Hadrian turned to the wall where a big painting of the same library he was currently standing in was occupied by the portrait of his father. If he was still alive, Hadrian knew that his father’s eyes would sparkle with the kind of excitement only caused by a new theory or a new experiment. As a portrait, his father’s eyes remained their warm, brown colour they always showed, but Hadrian didn’t let it bother him.

Walking closer to his father, Hadrian shrugged. “I’m fine. Speaking Parseltongue doesn’t seem to actively use up any of my magical reserves. It’s not different to using any other language. At least regarding magic.”

His father nodded and gave Dorea a distracted smile as she joined them. “Could you understand the snake perfectly? Did it use words you were not familiar with? Did you suddenly know the Parseltongue translation for every word you wanted to say?”

“It’s funny actually – while I understood everything the snake said and was able to talk to it in Parseltongue, I could only do so because it all sounded like English to me. I had to pay attention to how my mouth was moving to realize that I was actually ... hissing ... instead of simply speaking in English.”

“Fascinating.” Charlus said with a grin. “We’ll have to perform a few experiments to figure out how all of this actually works, but for now, the most important findings are that you are indeed a Parselmouth and that using the language doesn’t draw from your magical reserves like a normal spell would. Or like the usage of your runes would, in your case.”

“This also means that we can tick off the first point on our list.” Dorea said with a satisfied smile as she pulled out the piece of paper they had written on their things to do a bit earlier.

Hadrian watched as his mother struck out the point “find a snake” on their list, only to immediately add another point beneath it.

  * _Charlus’ bracelet_
  * _Hogwarts_
    * _Let Dumbledore come to us_
    * _Contingency plan: runes_
    * _Contingency plan: blood_
    * _How to handle James_
    * _Write letter to Argus_
  * _Wizengamot_
    * _File announcement intention_
    * _Attend August session? (Mourning period!)_
  * _Potter Lordship_
    * _Account statements_
    * _Vassals (still Finnegan and Perks?)_
    * _Alliances? / Feuds?_
  * _Peverell Lordship_
    * _All information_
    * _~~Find a snake~~_
    * _Practice Parseltongue_
  * _Society_
    * _Introduction_
    * _Daily Prophet interview?_



“Just looking at this makes me tired.” he said with a sigh.

“Well, there is reason why we started with the easiest task on the list.” his mother pointed out with a small smile. “Behind most of these other keywords lies a lot of work. But there is no need to become overwhelmed; we simply need to prioritize.”

She shifted slightly on the spot, ensuring that her husband was able to look at the list as well.

“Everything regarding your inheritance is not as pressing of a matter. No matter how estranged you were from your uncle, his death grants us the usual two months of mourning before you are expected to take on all your duties as Lord Potter.”

Hadrian nodded slowly. “But the August session of the Wizengamot falls into the mourning period.” he pointed out another item on the list. “I think I should attend at least one session before I leave for Hogwarts, and the August session is my only chance. Two days later I’ll be on the train to the school.”

“Well, no one can dictate how long and deeply you actually have to mourn your uncle.” Dorea said with a small huff. “And if this _tragic_ event does not render you completely helpless, meaning you are indeed able to attend the August session despite it by then only being three weeks after Flea’s death... well, that only shows how serious you take your new responsibilities, doesn’t it?”

“Of course, mother.” Hadrian said with a chuckle.

His father winked at him, something his mother pretended not to see as she consulted the list once more.

“We agree, then, that the items ‘Wizengamot’, ‘Potter Lordship’ and ‘Peverell Lordship’ do not require our immediate attention, however we should prepare you for the August session. I will floo Mr. Dill tomorrow, and you will need to see the goblins once more regarding the vault statements and family ledgers. Now, what else...” She scanned the list with quick eyes. “This ties in with the ‘Society’ item, obviously. It would be preferable if we could establish you in the public eye at least a little bit before the August session.”

“Favourably establish me.” Hadrian mumbled. “They already have a pretty clear picture of me even though they barely know more than my name. But they think they know me so well. Remember those articles when I turned eleven and didn’t turn up at Hogwarts? They all already _know_ I’m a squib.”

“They _think_ they know you are a squib.” Charlus said with a disapproving frown. “They have always assumed all kind if things about me and our family, but you cannot let those articles and rumours get to you, Hadrian.”

“I know.” Hadrian said angrily, consciously keeping his magic away from _Thurisaz_. The temperamental rune had a mind of her own, sometimes. “I know.” he repeated after taking a deep breath. “It’s just... frustrating, sometimes. And the other students...”

His parents exchanged a look and then his mother drew him into a hug with a sigh.

“Hadrian, dear, I know that it must seem scary to you that you will have to spend so much time around other children. We are sorry that we have been forced to – no, that we have chosen to isolate ourselves from society so much. It was the best decision for me and your father, but for you... sometimes I wish we could have given you at least a few human friends during your childhood.”

“It’s okay, mum.” Hadrian mumbled into the warm robes of his mother. “And I’m not angry with how I grew up, you know this. Maybe I didn’t have the kind of friends wizard children normally have, but I’m not a wizard, am I?” His grin was a bit strained as he stepped out of the hug, but none of them remarked on it. “I love my friends, which reminds me that I’ll have to figure out how to explain to them that soon, I’ll spend most of my time at Hogwarts. It’s just... I don’t know how to behave around wizards and witches, especially not in teenager form. And they will also have all kind of assumptions about me.”

“If they are worth your time, they will get to know you without caring about Skeeter’s articles.” Charlus said firmly. “And if they don’t care about getting to know the real you, well then fuck ‘em!”

“Charlie!” his mother hissed scandalized as Hadrian laughed out loud. “Your language!”

Hadrian grinned as he stepped closer to his mother to hug her once more, her arms winding around him without hesitation even as she was still bickering with her husband. He took a deep breath and as the comforting smell of his mother’s favourite perfume filled his nose, he allowed himself to truly relax for the first time since he had been involuntarily apparated into Gringotts.

It would be alright.

ᛋ

Hadrian frowned down at the small cup on the table in front of him. His hands felt oddly exposed even though he was currently wearing his gloves once more. The skin around the runes cut into his hands felt tight, and he had to resist the urge to flex his hands to resolve the sensation.

“Multiply it.” his mother said, standing in front of his desk and nodding at the cup.

Hadrian raised his left hand, holding it above the cup and staring at it intently. He needed to multiply it. Multiply – increasing the number of – creating copies – creating an abundance of – _wealth_. The idea of multiplying things could also be interpreted as creating wealth. Wealth didn’t necessarily mean that one had an abundance of money, it could very well mean that one owned an abundance of cups.

Reaching for the rune situated in the spot where his left little finger met the back of his hand, Hadrian called his magic to the rune _Fehu_. As always, this particular rune was enthusiastic in response, not unlike _Kenaz_ in his excitement to be used. Hadrian concentrated on his intention to multiply the cup in front of him and _Fehu_ complied immediately.

The cup began to shake slightly, before it suddenly jumped a bit to its right. In its original spot, a second, identical cup suddenly stood. Hadrian was about to smile at his mother in accomplishment, as the original cup started to shake once more, jumping a bit to the left to make place for the appearance of a third cup.

“Umm...” Hadrian stared helplessly as the cup multiplied three more times.

“I think that’s quite enough.” his mother said drily. “You can stop powering – which rune are you using?”

“ _Fehu_.” Hadrian answered, poking with his magic at the rune with a questioning thought. “But I’m not actively powering him anymore. This –“ he gestured at the by now ten cups in front of him, “- this should have stopped as soon as the second cup was created.”

“Hm.” his mother said, noting something down in a small book. Hadrian felt as if he was failing an exam, which wasn’t actually all that far off from his current situation. “Can you stop it?”

Hadrian nodded. He wasn’t exactly sure _how_ he could stop it, but there were various approaches he could think of which might work. He raised his right hand, his palm facing the desk covered in cups, and concentrated on the rune _Jera_ , sitting in the centre of his middle finger.

Ignoring the still multiplying cups, Hadrian pushed his magic into the stubborn rune. _Jera_ – the life cycle, the change that comes with the passing of time, the reward given after effort – Hadrian could see the purpose of the rune in his mind, not as a picture but as a simple truth, and he took this purpose and reversed it.

Picturing _Jera_ as its own mirrored image was easy, convincing the rune to follow Hadrian’s command was less so. He had found that runes were often less willing to work as their reversed self, but _Jera_ had always been one of the most stubborn ones.

Furrowing his brows, Hadrian poured more magic into the rune, coaxing her into life. Finally, _Jera_ acknowledged his intentions and he could feel the scar shaping the run burn as his magic activated.

The cups, at this point too many to count, shivered slightly before one after another disappeared silently. In the end, a single cup was left behind.

Hadrian traced _Jera_ through the thin leather of his gloves, a silent thank you. The rune sent back something like a weak electric shock, and Hadrian grinned. This one really wasn’t easy to charm.

His mother picked up the cup with one hand, setting down the small book with the notes she had taken throughout and taking out her wand instead to tap the cup once. “It’s the original.” she said with a proud nod and turned the cup to the left and right to get a good look at it. “No signs of material fatigue despite the numerous multiplications. Excellent work.” Setting down the cup she picked up the book again and quirked her lips in amusement. “Well, excellent besides a few minor points.”

Hadrian groaned. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“It won’t satisfy your professors at Hogwarts.” his mother shook her head. “You cannot pretend to be a wizard like them, with the little detail of being unable to bond with a wand, if you are obviously not using the kind of spells wizards use.”

“I know, I know.” Hadrian sighed. “So... you would use the Doubling Charm to create a replica of the cup, correct?”

His mother nodded. “ _Geminio_ , yes. Not to confuse with its darker variant – the Gemino Curse.”

“And _Geminio_ would create a single, perfect copy of the original?”

“Exactly.”

“If I want to pretend that I’m using the Doubling Charm, using it wandlessly and nonverbally of course, but still using it, I would therefore have to curb _Fehu_ ’s excitement a bit.”

“Just as bit.” his mother smiled.

Hadrian tried not to think about how he wouldn’t have to play this game of pretend if wizards and witches would just open their eyes and realize that their worth wasn’t measured by their wands, that he wouldn’t have to hide the way his magic worked if the British Wizarding World was a little less prejudiced and a little more aware of where they came from, that he wouldn’t have to hide, period, if their world was a little bit more build on equality.

 _At least you have the right number of legs,_ his friend Kenan would tell him right now.

 _Or any legs at all,_ Hchala would add.

He smiled. It really had been too long since they had all met up. He would have to sent them a message tonight to see how soon they’d be able to see each other.

“Alright.” he said, focusing once more on the task at hand. “So keeping _Fehu_ under control, and I probably need to speed up the process with _Jera_ , right?”

His mother nodded. “I know she’s a bit difficult, and if you can pretend that it is the first time you are trying to reverse a charm, then it won’t be suspicious if you struggle a bit. But for something like this, professors and students will assume that you are performing a wandless and nonverbal _Finite Incantatem_ , and that is a spell which a wizard your age should be able to perform flawlessly.”

“I feel like your expectations are unreasonably high sometimes.” Hadrian complained, softening his words with a wry smile.

Dorea laughed. “For a normal wizard? Maybe. For a wizard with Black blood and, more importantly, for a wizard who is mine and Charlie’s son? My expectations are high because you prove yourself capable every single time.”

Hadrian smiled, pride making him feel warm and comfortable as it always did when his parents praised him. Filled with new motivation, he raised his left hand once more to repeat the task.

“Oh, and something else I wanted to mention –“ his mother interrupted the motion. “You will have to pretend that you are casting with your right hand only.”

Hadrian looked up, confused by the seemingly random detail. “But why?” he asked, baffled.

“Surely you have noticed in the sixteen years you’ve watched me use magic that I always use my right hand to hold my wand?” she asked with a smile.

“Well, yes. But I assumed that it’s solely because you are righthanded.” Hadrian said.

“The two are connected. Us wizards and witches use a wand as our _loci magi_ , as you know. Our magic is stored in our magical core and travels through our body in the form of ... energy, for the lack of a better word. In order to use our magic, we need to channel it through a single point, a _loci_. You could assume that it doesn’t matter with which hand you hold your wand, because in either case it is still your _loci magi_ , correct?”

Hadrian nodded.

“But as you very well know, magic is bound to intention. And if you are righthanded, like you and I am, you will instinctively always intend to complete a task with your right hand. My left hand is confused when I task it with holding a spoon, I will certainly not depend on it for performing complex magic!”

Hadrian laughed. “That makes sense, I suppose. Does that mean that father was ambidextrous?” He definitely remembered his father randomly picking up his wand with whatever hand wasn’t holding a pen or a couple of loose papers at that moment.

“He was. Bloody show-off.” his mother said with an affectionate huff.

“If you perform a spell wandlessly, you are using your hand as your _loci magi_ , correct?” Hadrian asked, knowing that he couldn’t afford to not know this, even though this wasn’t how magic worked for him and even though most wizards and witches never even thought to question these things themselves.

“Exactly. But this means that you will have to pretend that you are always using your right hand when you are using your magic, no matter which rune you are activating.”

This made perfect sense, of course, and it really wasn’t that much of a hardship, but Hadrian was annoyed nevertheless. He knew that he was approaching ‘whiny brat’ territory and he told himself to keep it together but... it was just another small detail he had to change about himself to fit into a society he didn’t even want to fit in. At least not like this, not by changing and pretending. And not while the society was in its current state.

But by hiding beneath a smoothed out surface he would soon be in a position where he could be himself without being looked down upon. You couldn’t change a society without being part of it – in the end it was as simple as that. And thus he lifted his right hand and held it above the cup, and when _Fehu_ tried to squeeze a second multiplication out, Hadrian cut him off quickly. Coaxing _Jera_ into complying more quickly didn’t actually require more magic but a stronger resolve, Hadrian finally figured out, and even as he shakily accepted a Blood Replenishing Potion from his mother at the end of their extended lesson, he felt quite accomplished.

It would be difficult, but he knew that he would be able to fool his professors. The only ones he was worried about were the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and the professor of Defense, Lord Slytherin. He would have to learn more about them before he actually joined the Hogwarts student body. Luckily, he had a source of information no one else would even think about.

_Dear Argus,_

_I hope you and Mrs. Norris are doing well. How is the renovation of your flat coming along – you mentioned turning the balcony into a winter garden, I believe?_

_I’m not sure if you’ve seen the articles in the Prophet yet, and I’m uncomfortable with writing down any details in a letter, but the short version is: yes, I am indeed Lord Potter._

_(No one was more surprised than myself.)_

_(Maybe Euphemia.)_

_This of course means that my reintroduction to our esteemed society will occur much faster and under a lot more scrutiny than planned. There are only a few people who know anything about me besides the rumours reprinted every year, and therefore I am considering attending Hogwarts as a student as of this September 1st. _

_There are of course many details that still need to be hashed out (how professors will grade my ... style of magic, for example), but there really seems no way to avoid getting A Proper Education._

_Argus, I know you prefer to pretend that Hogwarts doesn’t exist during your summer vacation, but me and mother would be very grateful if you could join us for tea sometime in the next few days and tell us a bit about the school, the Headmaster, the students, the Headmaster, the professors... Everything we cannot learn by reading the introductory pamphlets, basically._

_At the very least, this development will ensure that I will be able to see you and Mrs. Norris a bit more often! And you will need to show me the Come and Go Room – father often said that he would have loved to study it further (he was already a genius at seventeen, but not enough so to understand the magic behind that room)._

_I am rambling – sorry (I cannot let my mother see this letter)._

_We are looking forward to your answer and are hoping to see you soon._

_Magic’s blessings,_

_Hadrian_

ᛋ

Hadrian checked his robes for a last time, making sure that they were clean and tidy. With a habitual movement, he pushed his hair out of his face, but refrained from pulling it into the usual low ponytail. He wanted it to flow freely and messily today – no one who would see him would be able to deny the fact that he was a Potter.

A small amount of light grey powder later, and the flames in front of him turned bright green. Stepping forward, Hadrian clearly called out “The Leaky Cauldron” and disappeared in a quick swirl of flames and magic. He held himself still during the travel, but as soon as he recognized the tugging sensation which indicated his approaching arrival in the other fireplace, Hadrian shifted the centre of his balance and moved his right leg forward. As soon as the green flames around him cleared, he was pushed forward to make room for possible other travellers. Anticipating this, Hadrian caught himself easily, stepping out of the fireplace with the relaxed air of a frequent user of the floo.

He stepped aside, making sure that there was no soot or ash on his robes, before taking a look around. He had been in Diagon Alley before, naturally, quite a few times. But this was the first time he would walk along the familiar streets as himself, with no glamours and Notice-Me-Not charms placed by his parents, with nothing to protect him from curious glances. And with the newspapers stirring the gossip, he expected a lot more than just glances. Already, he could feel calculating eyes watching him as he walked towards the back entrance of the pub, and the whispers around him seemed to have increased. Or maybe he was simply paranoid. Whichever it was, Hadrian kept his posture straight and his steps confident, secure in the knowledge that various shield and protection spells were sewn into his robes.

He opened the entrance to Diagon Alley easily, smirking slightly as he tapped against the stones with a gloved finger. An astounding number of wizards and witches wasn’t aware that you didn’t actually have to use a wand or anything in magical nature, really, to open the entrance. As long as you tapped the right stones in the correct sequence, the entrance would open for you. This was necessary since squibs or the parents of muggleborns had to use the entrance frequently as well, and poor Tom actually had a job besides playing door guard.

Ignoring the people around him, some of who were openly staring or even pointing at him, Hadrian walked through the alley in a leisurely pace. Being out in the open like this was a new and unsettling experience for him, and the urge to push through the crowd of people as quickly as possible was quite strong. But good manners as well as the knowledge that his every step was being watched, forced him into adapting to the people around him. This was the first time people would be able to truly form an opinion of him, and he didn’t want them to think him arrogant or rude. Thus, he stopped in front of a few stores, made a short stop at Florrish and Botts, and kept his face open and unguarded. Some members of the wizarding public would not hesitate to call him ‘too young’ and ‘too weak’ for his Lordship title because of this – they would look at his face and the way he stepped aside for a group of elderly witches to allow them to pass him more easily, and all they would see youth and naiveness. But Hadrian couldn’t actually change how people chose to think about him. All he could do was prove them wrong, something he had every intention to do.

Finally, he arrived at Gringotts, nodding respectfully at the goblin guards at the front entrance. This action only increased the whispers around him, and he thought he could hear the distinctive ‘snap’ of a magically enhanced camera. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes and instead looked around for Brighthax. He soon realised that he had no idea if the goblin actually had a designated counter – the last time he had been at Gringotts, he hadn’t exactly entered through the front entrance. He ended up asking a random goblin for directions, and soon he found himself in front of a heavy, black door. Brighthax, as an account manager, turned out to not work behind a counter after all.

“Come in.” a familiar, gruffly voice called out, after Hadrian had knocked three times.

“Good morning, Brighthax. May good fortune follow you today.” Hadrian greeted the goblin contently.

Brighthax stood and gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. “And may your riches continue to grow, Lord Potter. Please, sit down.”

They both sat down and the goblin looked at Hadrian with an amused glint in his dark eyes. “It is easy to remember your preferred form of address today, Lord Potter. Your appearance does the saying justice.”

“A Potter’s temperament is as untameable as their hair.” Hadrian recited with a laugh. “It truly is a family curse, Brighthax.”

The goblin grinned sharply, before conjuring a stack of paper. “Would you like to go over your finances today? Or a complete assessment of your vaults’ content instead?”

“Neither, I’m afraid.” Hadrian said. “I am still officially in my mourning period, and there are a few things I will have to sort out before I can actually sit down and go over my vaults and the family ledgers in detail. Nevertheless, I would like to gain a general overview of the current state of affairs as well as of any matters which require my immediate attention. As you can probably imagine, neither my father nor I were kept updated on the family affairs by my late uncle.” He rolled his eyes, allowing himself to let down his guard slightly. Brighthax had his interest in mind, after all, and the goblin would appreciate the gesture as a sign that Hadrian was content with treating him as an equal, a confidant almost. Not like a creature he simply paid to follow his orders. “Oh, and there are a few administrative details which I’m not certain are actually in your jurisdiction or a mere Ministry matter.” He pulled a folder out of one of his robes’ pockets.

“And what would these ‘administrative details’ be?” Brighthax asked.

“Well, I never got my OWLs, for example. But if I want to attend Hogwarts this year, I’ll need to prove that I can keep up with the other students. Instead of the OWLs, I completed the TOADs. They are technically a bit more advanced than the OWLs, but I’m sure no one will question that I’m choosing to join the sixth year. Since I’m sixteen and this will be my first time experiencing... public education.”

Brighthax nodded slowly, sorting through the folder Hadrian had given him. “I see that you have already informed the Ministry of passing the TOADs, back when you took them at... fourteen.” The last word was accompanied by an almost impressed glance at Hadrian, who found himself blushing.

“Ah. Yes. Well, we had to inform the Department of Education, since every child is required to gain education of at least OWL level. But there was no reason to officially file these documents with the Ministry, not as I have to do now as Lord of an active House. I do not want my request for announcing myself as Lord Potter and member of the Wizengamot to be denied simply because I never sat my OWLs.”

“And is there a reason you never sat your OWLs?” Brigthhax said after a moment of silence. “You would obviously have no problem to pass them, seeing as you were only fourteen when you passed a more difficult alternative.”

Hadrian leaned back in his seat, silently regarding the goblin in front of him. He liked Brighthax well enough, and trusted him to a certain extend. And this was something which the whole wizarding world would know soon enough, anyway. “I did not meet the requirements for independent OWL testing.” he said with a wry smile. “The very first thing they ask of you is to register your wand, you see. For documentation purposes, and to ensure that there are no enhancement or cheating spells placed on it. And I do not have a wand. Nor will I ever have one.”

There was no chance of awkwardness between them as Brighthax only reaction was to loudly press a stamp onto a page in front of him. “Very well.” Brighthax nodded and made another note. “Thank you for telling me, Lord Potter. We will file your TOAD records with the Ministry as soon as possible. Anything else?”

Hadrian had never been as glad for goblins’ general no-nonsense attitude as in this moment, and he smiled as he leaned forward to point at another piece of paper. “Well, there’s the matter of my apparation licence. In the British Ministry you also need a wand to take the test, so I got my licence in Germany last year, but...”

Hadrian took a deep breath as he stepped out of Gringotts an hour later. As requested, he and Brighthax hadn’t gone through the contents of all vaults, but he now had a quite good overview of his possessions. His absolute favourite being a heirloom which was originally from the Peverell family, and was still given from father to son in the Potter family. No doubt James was seething at the loss of the priceless invisibility cloak, but for Hadrian, it was a sign of good fortune indeed.

The family ledger of the Peverell family was tucked securely into one of his anti-thief charmed pockets, but the family ledger of the Potter family was apparently still in the office of Fleamont Potter. Hadrian had asked Brighthax to send his aunt an official letter requesting the return of the ledger and various other documents under the pretence of having to perform a thorough audit of the Potter vaults due to the death of the Head of the House. If their family was a little bit more... normal, Hadrian would simply get the ledger himself, or send his aunt a letter asking for it. But he knew without a doubt that Euphemia would never willingly part from anything with the name “Potter” on it, especially not if Hadrian was the one asking for it.

Walking down the stairs of the bank, Hadrian set his sight on a store he had visited a surprising number of times considering that normally, wizards only entered the shop once, and Hadrian had no actual reason to enter it at all.

There was no bell to announce a new customer as Hadrian stepped into the shop. The owner didn’t need a bell to tell him someone had come inside – he had other ways to know about everything that was going on in here. Hadrian let his eyes wander over the high rows of box after box, feeling at once utterly out of place and strangely at home.

“Ah, Mister Potter! Or is it Lord Potter, now?”

Hadrian looked up with a smile, his green eyes meeting the cloudy grey ones of his father’s friend. “For you, it is simply Hadrian, Master Ollivander.”

The older man tutted disapprovingly as he climbed down the shaky ladder. If the ladder hadn’t been made from wood, Hadrian would be scared for the other man, but there was no way anything made from wood would ever allow Master Ollivander to be hurt.

“If I call you Hadrian, you must stop with this _Master_ Ollivander nonsense.” Master Ollivander said with a strict look over his glasses.

Hadrian grinned. “Maybe next time, Master Ollivander.”

“The nerve of the youth these days.” Master Ollivander muttered, but there was a warmth in his voice that allowed Hadrian’s grin to grow even wider. “How is your mother these days?”

“Brilliant as always. More worried than usual. She sent me to complain in her name because you haven’t visited in some time.”

Master Ollivander chuckled as he sorted away a few stray wands. “A force of nature, your mother. And that means something, coming from me.”

“I know.” Hadrian smiled. “So you will visit?”

“Soon.” Master Ollivander promised. “All parents go completely insane in August, but I should find the time. Is there a specific reason you are asking me to visit?”

“Well, we are of course always happy to see you.” Hadrian said and laughed when Master Ollivander rolled his eyes. “But there might also be something of an experiment happening with an invention of my father. We could use another brilliant head to puzzle out why something doesn’t work. Or why it works. There are still a lot of question marks surrounding that invention.”

“Well, I’ve never had the strength to say no to an abundance of question marks.” Master Ollivander said with a sigh. “Tell your mother that I’ll send an owl.”

“Great!” Hadrian smiled. “Now, I believe that I’ve spent enough time in Diagon Alley for a certain headmaster to learn about my appearance, so I’ll go back outside to run into him by chance. I’m looking forward to your visit.”

As Hadrian turned around, a couple of wizards with their son entered the shop. Recognizing neither of them from his mother’s political lessons, he moved aside with a polite nod to let them move towards Master Ollivander. Muffling a giggle as his father’s friend started to speak in the fragile, hoarse tone he adopted in public, Hadrian stepped outside.

He had taken only a few steps back towards the Leaky Cauldron as he instinctively tensed, feeling something like anticipation stifle the air around him. He looked up, trying to figure out why _Raidho_ was suddenly itching. The rune helped him detect large sources of magic, and something had woken her up quite suddenly.

Said source was easy to detect, mainly because the bright red and orange robes the man was wearing were almost screaming at Hadrian in all their hideousness. He studied the elder wizard openly, not trying to hide his curiosity as the other was watching him just as obviously. It sometimes surprised him, how easily his mother could predict the behaviour of others. _There is no need to write to Hogwarts to ask about you joining this year’s sixth years,_ she had told him with a smile. _Powerful men prefer it if they think something was their own idea anyways. Let him come to us._ Hadrian continued walking, but stopped a few feet away from the white-haired wizard.

“Mr. Potter.” the man said.

Hadrian smiled slowly. “The correct form of address would be ‘Lord Potter’, Sir.” he corrected politely. Somewhere behind him, he could hear the frantic scratch of a quill on parchment. Without a doubt, he would be able to read his words tomorrow in the Daily Prophet.

The old wizard chuckled amicably. “Oh, please forgive me, Lord Potter. You see, I know dear James very well, and it seems as if this surprising turn of events doesn’t seem to be quite real to me yet.”

Hadrian nodded. “Of course. An easy mistake to make, especially since it can be quite difficult to keep all these names and titles in mind.”

“Oh, now, I must confess that I never experienced such a difficulty myself.” the other wizard smiled. “So many of the faces of young Lords and Ladies are familiar to me. It’s amazing, how fast they all grow up…” He trailed off for a second, though Hadrian didn’t belief the wistful look in the old man’s eyes for a second.

“But you must excuse me, I seem to have forgotten my manners!” the wizard kept smiling, though it looked quite patronising to Hadrian. “My name is Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Headmaster of Hogwarts, beside a few other things. I was hoping to have a chance for a talk with you, Lord Potter?”

Hadrian had to fight himself in order to keep his smile from changing into an amused smirk. He confidently took the offered hand and shook it two times. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Headmaster Dumbledore. And I would be delighted if you joined me on my little walk back to the Leaky Cauldron.” He gestured into the general direction of the pub. “If you’d walk with me, Sir?”

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, taking his place next to Hadrian. “Certainly.” he answered, and the two of them started to make their way through the gossiping crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TOAD: Test Of Advanced Difficulty
> 
>  **Runes**  
>  ᛉ Algiz (she/her): protection, shield, defense. Used here like _Protego_.  
> ᚦ Thurisaz (she/her): thorn, force of destruction, mostly reactive force.  
> ᚠ Fehu (he/him): cattle, wealth. Social success. Here, wealth is seen as “abundance of things” and thus used like _Geminio_  
>  ᚲ Kenaz (he/him): fire, inspiration, light. Used for all kinds of fire spells.  
> ᛃ Jera (she/her): life cycle, change comes with time, good harvest = realization of prior effort. Jera-reversed can be used for reversals, used here like _Finite Incantatem_  
>  ᚱ Raidho (she/her): travel, seeing the larger perspective, dance or rhythm of life. Used here to detect magic.
> 
> And that's the third chapter! A few more people introduced (some who we know, some who are currently strangers - can you figure out how many legs Kenan and Hchalla have respectively?) and a closer look at how Hadrian's magic works. I hope you liked it!
> 
> Also, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has commented (you guys are the best!) as well as for every kudos and every subscription! I'm really happy to see that other people are liking this :)
> 
> The next update will be on Friday, the 8th of January 2021. So happy new year, everyone!! 
> 
> Until then,  
> Sky


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dumbledore is more complicated than Hadrian expected, friends are made and send messages in various ways, politics are discussed and there are even more messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not late. I'm not. It's 11pm where I am, so don't look at me. Don't!!
> 
> Anyway. Is it too early yet for a deep sigh and a "what a year, huh?". Probably. To be honest, I just feel like we've never left 2020. This is just the shitty sequel.
> 
> But I hope I can make your weekend a bit better with this chapter. It's the longest one yet, and my favourite so far. Enjoy! :D
> 
> Disclaimer: q.v. Chapter 1

“These last few days must have been quite exciting for you, young man.” Dumbledore smiled. They were walking slowly, a Privacy Charm ensuring that the crowd of people around them wouldn’t be able to listen in on their conversation.

“Quite.” Hadrian agreed.

“I know James very well, you must know. Of course, as the Headmaster I shouldn’t really have any favourite students, but I will admit that I am quite fond of him and his friends.”

Hadrian didn’t know how to respond to such an open admission of blatant favouritism. At least he would know what he’d have to face come September in Hogwarts.

Dumbledore seemed to be ignorant of Hadrian’s disinterest and simply continued talking merrily. “Since I am so familiar with your family – your late uncle was a good friend of mine – I was surprised to see you inheriting the Lordship title. As far as I know, everyone was convinced James was the heir. May I know how it came to this unexpected turn of events?”

“You may not.” Hadrian smiled politely, noticing the spark of displeasure in the older wizard’s blue eyes. “I am afraid that these circumstances are a matter of family, and family only, Headmaster. I am sure you understand my reluctance to share any more sensitive information with… outsiders, no matter how close your relationship with my family might be.”

Dumbledore was obviously no Slytherin, as he didn’t quite manage to hide his disappointment. However, he was quick to laugh it off and once again he smiled at Hadrian. “I understand this perfectly well, my boy. Please be assured that –“

“Headmaster Dumbledore.” Hadrian interrupted the other. “I am aware that my inheritance has come as a surprise to you, but please try to remember that I am indeed Lord Potter and thus considered an adult. This is the first time we’ve ever met and I am not comfortable with your familiar way of addressing me.”

Dumbledore hid his anger a little bit better this time, his face giving off an air of chastisement. “Of course, Lord Potter, please forgive this old man. To tell the truth, I am simply used to seeing all you young people as my students, and I care for every single one of them as if they were part of my family.”

_Sure_ , Hadrian thought _. And I adore James with all my heart._

“This reminds me…” Dumbledore suddenly perked up. “It has always been a great mystery to me why you aren’t attending Hogwarts yourself. I believe your parents enjoyed their school life very much, and seeing as they met there, I was surprised that they would deny you the same wonderful experience.”

Hadrian smiled, this time much more honestly. Dumbledore’s plan was painfully obvious, but luckily, his mother had predicted this exact move from the old wizard. Soon, he would transfer to Hogwarts, and the headmaster would believe that it was all thanks to his cunning mind.

“To be perfectly honest, Headmaster, I sometimes wish they would have allowed me to attend Hogwarts.” he sighed. “But my mother wished for a quiet and anonymous life, and therefore my parents decided to have me taught by tutors instead. My education is certainly not lacking in any sense, but reading the letters of my cousin, with all the stories of their adventures…” he trailed off, remembering the few letters James had sent him. Whenever he mentioned Hogwarts, he also mentioned his three friends and the pranks they pulled on the whole school. Well, mostly on Slytherins. Most of it sounded suspiciously like bullying to Hadrian. He hadn’t been sure because he really didn’t know all that much about how teenagers treated each other (where was the line between a prank and simply being mean?), but after showing the letters to his parents, they had assured him that some of the ‘pranks’ were intended to be hurtful and not funny. James had never talked about experiencing any consequences for the actions of himself and his friends, his pride almost tangible on the parchment. Hadrian had certainly never wished to join them.

Dumbledore smiled brightly, his eyes twinkling happily. “Well, Lord Potter, we would love to have you, of course. Why, I think this year would be the perfect opportunity to see if Hogwarts agrees with you. You won’t have the stress of any major exams weighting you down, and you’d be able to escape all this attention.” He made a wide sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating to all the staring shoppers and random journalists taking picture after picture.

Hadrian made a show of frowning thoughtfully. “I… well, to be honest... I am unsure how to say this, Headmaster, but there is a second reason why I have never attended your school.” He made a scene of looking around as if uncomfortable with his words being out in public. “My magic... you were familiar with my father, weren’t you?”

He had obviously managed to catch the older wizard’s full attention, and Dumbledore nodded with an encouraging smile. “Yes, my bo- excuse me, I mean yes, Lord Potter. An incredible mind, if I may say so.”

“He really was one of the brightest wizards of our lifetime.” Hadrian agreed, not bothering to hide his honest pride as he spoke of his father. “But his magic – well. There is no need to dredge up memories. Let me just say that my own magic has more in common with that of my father than my mother’s.”

“Fascinating, absolutely fascinating.” Dumbledore said. “Ah, you must excuse me if I come across a bit insensitive. I fear the scholar in me is quite delighted by the idea of getting to know a different style of wielding magic.”

Hadrian didn’t doubt that some of Dumbledore’s enthusiasm was real. But the man had also never bothered to reach out to Charlus after he had shown signs of drifting away from what the wizarding world considered a ‘normal’ style of magic, so he was taking the words of the headmaster with a grain of salt.

“No harm done.” he assured the older wizard. He had to sidestep a witch, her eyes sparkling almost as much as the green Quick-Quotes Quill hovering above a floating piece of parchment besides her. Hadrian couldn’t hear what she was saying, and neither could she hear him and Dumbledore, thanks to the latter’s Privacy Charm around them. But Hadrian still felt the urge to put as much space between himself and the red, claw-like fingernails of the witch as possible.

“Ah, that would be Ms. Skeeter.” Dumbledore said, his voice still light but his eyes hard. “If I might allow myself to offer my advice to you – be careful of your words in her presence. She delights in twisting narratives into whatever suits her own fame best.”

“An interesting approach for a journalist.” Hadrian muttered. They left Ms. Skeeter behind them as they moved further down the alley. “And thank you for that word of advice – she has already written a few interesting pieces about me and my family, so I was wary of her name already. But avoiding her will be easier now that I know what she looks like.”

He was momentarily distracted by the stare of a beautiful snowy owl in one of the cages outside the Owl Emporium, before turning back towards the headmaster. “Regarding my style of wielding magic, as you called it – to be perfectly clear, I am unable to bond with a wand. This doesn’t mean that I am unable to access my magic, or that my core is inactive,” he was quick to clarify as Dumbledore turned to him with an alarmed look, “but it means that I use wandless magic. Only wandless magic. The professors at Hogwarts will not be able to evaluate my wand movements or anything like that. Knowing this, do you still believe that I could find a place at Hogwarts as a student?”

Dumbledore studied him for another moment before smiling. “Lord Potter, you will find that no matter what some people might say or write about me, there is something which has always been true about me: I hold magic in the highest esteem and I wish to celebrate it freely and honestly in all its wonderful forms. I believe that Hogwarts would benefit greatly from your attendance – there have been many who have become too comfortable in their view of the world. I fear that I am no exception, though I do my best to remind myself of the bigger picture as often as possible. Others, I’m afraid, do not believe it necessary to even consider the existence of such a bigger purpose.”

Hadrian... did not know what to make of those words. He wished for his mother’s presence at his side, wished to look at her from the corner of his eyes to see how she reacted to the headmaster’s words. He didn’t doubt the older wizard’s honesty, but he believed there was a layer beneath his words that he was missing. Nevertheless, he had to admit to himself that Dumbledore impressed him. He could see why so many people followed him like his words were the laws of magic herself. He knew that he wasn’t objective in his opinion of the headmaster, and he had to remind himself that his parents did not know the whole truth either. Was he right to be wary of Dumbledore? Yes, without doubt, since it was always smart to be wary of powerful people. But was Dumbledore his _enemy_?

Not necessarily.

“I agree with what you say – magic should be celebrated in all of her forms. I am glad that I will have a chance to attend Hogwarts even though my approach to using magic might appear strange at first.” Hadrian said.

“There is no shame in being unable to bond with a wand.” Dumbledore said decisively. “We are too dependent on them anyway. Maybe you could encourage some of your classmates to show a bit more interest in wandless magic, in fact. Too often, this invaluable skill is neglected simply because it is more difficult than its alternative.”

Hadrian felt a moment of panic at the thought of teaching anyone anything about magic. How could he teach someone how to perform a spell wandlessly when he had never used the spell himself? His mother had explained to him how she used magic, how it felt inside of herself and how difficult it was to direct it without her wand. But he had never experienced all that. No, he would be the worst teacher imaginable and would also unnecessarily endanger himself. And Hogwarts was a school, wasn’t it? Surely, there were enough teachers there?

He looked to his left at the older wizard, only to be met with an expectant raise of a bushy, white eyebrow.

“Ah, excuse me.” Hadrian felt his cheeks heating. “I didn’t catch your question. Could you repeat it?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I am sometimes quite scatter-brained myself, do not worry about it. I asked whether or not you have completed any standardized tests of your abilities and schooling? I assume you haven’t taken your OWLs?”

Hadrian nodded. “I wasn’t able to take the OWLs as they require the possession of a wand. But I have taken the internationally accepted TOADs instead.”

Dumbledore appeared delighted by those words. “Most impressive, young man! Why, I believe our students would gain very much indeed by your attendance. And if I might be so free – maybe you will find that your relationship with young James will profit as well. Spending so much time so close together has taught many of the importance of forgiveness and compromises.”

“We will see.” Hadrian said politely. He wondered why Dumbledore was so interested in James. Even if he disliked his cousin... he couldn’t help but feel a certain protectiveness at the thought of a powerful man such as the headmaster taking interest in someone from his family.

He made a show of thinking deeply a few more moments before nodding decisively. “It all sound quite doable.” he told the other. “I will discuss it with my mother. I hope I won’t cause you and the other staff too much hassle by joining the student body on such a short notice?”

Dumbledore chuckled, looking carefree and very much accomplished. “Of course not, my boy. I mean, Lord Potter. We pride ourselves to be quite flexible at Hogwarts: whatever a student may need, they may receive.”

Hadrian tried to imagine the expression on the Headmaster’s face when he’d be sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor as the older wizard apparently believed it would happen. That alone was worth the stress of dealing with the enigma that was Dumbledore for the next two years.

“Thank you, Headmaster.” he said with a small smile. “Would you be able to send me a list of the courses available? Just so I can make a more informed decision.”

Dumbledore suddenly stopped, and Hadrian realised that they had already arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. “I will make certain that you will receive the usual information package for transfer students as soon as possible.” the white-haired wizard promised. From the corner of his eyes, Hadrian could see an almost unnoticeable twitch of the other’s right hand, and immediately he could feel the Privacy Charm around them drop. He kept his eyes on Dumbledore, never indicating that he had felt the difference in magic around them.

“I would be delighted to see you in Hogwarts this September, Lord Potter.” Dumbledore said kindly.

Hadrian smiled and nodded as the whispers exploded around them. “Thank you, Headmaster. I will await your owl.” he answered, making sure that his voice carried to the ears of the not-very-subtle eavesdroppers. They exchanged a few other pleasantries, and then they parted ways, both satisfied to have achieved their goals. Hadrian was still smiling as he stepped into the fireplace to floo back to his home.

ᛋ

The heat felt like a heavy, smothering blanket as Hadrian wandered through the high grass in the south of their grounds. He had changed into much lighter, casual clothing after returning from Diagon Alley and he embraced the feeling of the warm sun on his bare arms. His hands felt a bit sticky as he had to put on some hydration cream whenever he was outside in the sun without gloves for an extended time. Without the extra protection, the scars forming the runes became dry and irritated and Hadrian knew very well how uncomfortable that could be.

He could, of course use one of the water based runes such as _Isa_ or _Laguz_ to protect his hands instead, but the constant use of one of his runes even for such a simple spell would draw from his resources. As his mother often liked to said, there was only so much blood in a human body.

The path he was following was one well known to him. He had explored it for the first time as a young child and had gotten terribly lost. He had been found and had made his first ever friend, but he had also gotten grounded for scaring his parents by disappearing without a trace.

He had been scared as well, Hadrian remembered. The forest he was approaching now had seemed like a whole different world back then. He had been so small that every tree had looked like a tower to him, and he had quickly lost any sense of direction as he wandered deeper into the woods. Not that being lost had made him reconsider his adventure – he had felt big and grown up as if walking around in the woods was an essential step in becoming an adult. Looking back, he had been incredibly lucky that it had been the centaur herd that had found him instead of anyone or anything else.

By now he knew the forest as well as he knew his home. Walking along almost invisible paths was as easy as walking down a hallway in their house. And the forest knew him as well. He never felt like a stranger here anymore, but rather like a child returning home after a long journey. A few rabbits crossed his path and they greeted him with expectant sniffles, looking at him disappointedly when he admit to not carrying any treats for them on this day. They allowed him to pet a few of them anyway before hopping away. Hadrian greeted a pair of deer and a few birds in the same way, though he also spotted various animals which preferred to stay away. As a child he would chase after them, trying to make friends with all of them, but he had learned. And so he greeted them with only a smile and walked further down his path into the forest.

The centaur herd which had found him back then was not in the forest right now. It was too hot for them, even in the forest, and the small lake in the centre of the forest wasn’t enough to cool them down in the heat. Hadrian therefore wasn’t sure if he would be able to meet up with Kenan in person before he left for Hogwarts. The centaur would probably manage to blame this on Hadrian somehow, so Hadrian might have to visit his friend wherever his herd was currently staying.

His thoughts were interrupted by a rustle in the leaves of the trees above him and then he ducked instinctively as a white shadow swooped down at him.

A reprimanding hoot made him look up and he stared with wide eyes at the white owl hovering in the air before him, Automatically, he offered the owl his arm and his action was met with a much more satisfied hoot and the owl sitting down on his arm.

Hadrian’s heart slowly calmed down again and he looked at the owl with amusement. She – because he was quite sure that the owl was indeed a ‘she’ – had approached him with such confidence, demanding of him to let her sit on his arm. None of the animals of the forest had ever approached him with such self-assurance. He raised his hand slowly, allowing the owl enough time to shy away but when he was met with only an encouraging small sound he gently smoothed down the feathers on the owl’s head and down her back. The snowy owl nibbled on his fingers almost affectionally and Hadrian caught himself grinning widely as he petted her. Interestingly, his runes appeared to approve of her just as much as he did – they warmed in a similar way to how they felt when Hadrian’s mother hugged him or held his hands.

A persistent little thought became louder in the back of his head as Hadrian continued petting the owl. She seemed familiar in some way.

“I don’t have any treats for you, I’m afraid.” he said after a moment. He expected her to bristle at his words, disappointed by his empty pockets, and to fly off into the forest. But instead she looked at him as if he was being particularly slow, hooting impatiently and lifting one leg as if preparing herself to accept a letter from him.

He stared at her, too surprised by her behaviour to sort out his thoughts for a second. “You are a post owl.” he realized. “But you... don’t have a letter for me. Why would you...” He stared at her before he suddenly remembered where he had seen her before.

“Wait! You are one of the owls from the Owl Emporium, aren’t you? In Diagon Alley.”

She bobbed her head happily as if to confirm his words.

“But then...” Hadrian stared at her. “Did someone buy you and send you to me?”

She nibbed at his fingers, harsher than before.

“Ow! That’s a no, then.” Hadrian muttered. “Well, I think I would remember if I had bought you. So did you just... leave?”

He felt stupid asking the question, but the owl hooted encouragingly.

“You just flew away.” Hadrian repeated. “And you came... here. To me?”

_Obviously_ , the stare of the owl seemed to say.

Hadrian didn’t quite know what to do with that information. Had he accidentally stolen an owl? Without wanting to? Was it still theft if the owl had come to him voluntarily without Hadrian knowing about it?

The owl hooted impatiently, once more lifting a leg as if demanding a letter to carry. Thinking over everything he had learned about post owls, Hadrian vaguely remembered that the first letter you sent with your owl was important. Something about establishing a bond?

“I don’t have a letter.” he told her, feeling the urge to apologize.

The owl looked as if she would roll her eyes if she were able to do something like that and leaned down to pick at the right pocket of Hadrian’s trousers. Hadrian waited for her to stop before awkwardly reaching into the pocket without disturbing her balance. His fingers closed around a small piece of parchment and he pulled it out of his trousers with a small huff of surprise.

The piece wasn’t big, but big enough for a few words.

“How did you know this was in there?” he asked the owl, squinting at her suspiciously.

She hooted superiorly, obviously not willing to share any of her owl secrets. Hadrian couldn’t help but laugh about the absurdity and unexpectedness of the situation. He asked the owl politely to sit on one of the branches of a tree nearby so he might write the letter. She chose to sit on his shoulder instead, either unwilling to leave him even for a moment or simply intent on being contrary.

Either way, Hadrian couldn’t even pretend not to be charmed. He liked this weird, too smart, too stubborn owl and even if he would have to make an awkward visit to the Owl Emporium in the next few days to pay for her, he already knew that he wouldn’t allow anyone to take her away from him.

With a small poke at the dormant rune, he activated _Ansuz_. The rune of insight, speech and truth was the one he gravitated towards whenever he intended to spin magic around anything involving words. They were a haughty rune and sometimes frustrating to work with, but they were also incredibly possessive of Hadrian. He had the suspicion that, if he found himself in danger, _Ansuz_ would react to his request as fast as _Kenaz_ did every day.

Here and now, the rune awoke slowly, their attitude hilariously similar to that of the owl on Hadrian’s shoulder. Surprisingly, the rune didn’t seem to be bothered by that sentiment and even woke up a bit faster than Hadrian had expected.

_Words to script_ , Hadrian thought as he stared at the paper.

“Hi Ellie. I was adopted by this owl. Please give her something to eat and drink. Thank you.”

In front of his eyes, his words were written in his own, simple but easily readable handwriting onto the piece of parchment. _Ansuz_ immediately went to sleep again, believing their task to be done and over with, and Hadrian shook his head with a sigh. He knew that his mother’s wand also had a personality, as all kind of _Loci magi_ had, but with a wand you only had to work with one personality. Hadrian had to work with _twenty four_ of them.

He loved them all, of course. But it was tiring sometimes, nevertheless.

He folded the paper twice and turned his head to look at the owl. His owl? Well, apparently. He smiled.

“Could you bring this to Ellie, please? She’s a house elf at Charlus’ Cottage.”

The owl nibbled at his hair, something Hadrian chose to interpret as an affectionate action, and leaned forward to carefully grasp the folded note with her beak. Nuzzling her head against Hadrian’s for a second she flew off, back along the way Hadrian had come, towards the Cottage his mother had renamed in honour of her husband.

Well.

Well, well, well.

He had his own owl now. That was unexpected but could proof to be incredibly useful. Especially when he was at Hogwarts and his mother was here, alone except for the company of their house elves and the portrait of her husband.

(Good company, without a doubt. And Hadrian wasn’t sure whether he was more worried for her or for himself, getting lost in a castle with hundreds of students but without his family.)

Hadrian remained standing in the same spot for a few more minutes before he felt centred enough to keep on walking. He shook of the thoughts of the impending school year and concentrated on taking on step after another on this familiar path. He had almost reached the middle of the forest when a flash of bright blue caught his attention.

He smiled widely as he jogged over to the tree which had a blue scarf tied around one of its branches. Hadrian carefully unwound the scarf and smoothed it out. The scarf was crafted uniformly in the same blue colour except for a small black maple leaf at each end. Hadrian kept holding onto the scarf as he returned to his path towards the middle of the forest, his steps faster now that he knew where one of his friends was.

Since the centaur herd Kenan was part of travelled to different territories every summer and winter, they had worked out a system to tell each other where the herd went even when they hadn’t seen each other for quite some time before the centaurs departed. Kenan and Hadrian both had various scarfs, all of them made by Hchala. They all had a small symbol which indicated a certain place. The maple leaves were a symbol for a dense forest in the north of Germany, a place which had once been a ritual site and which remained always a few degrees colder than its surroundings. Various herds spent their summer there. It was one of the open territories, not like the forest Hadrian was currently in. If another centaur herd travelled through this forest without the prior agreement of the Chief from Kenan’s herd, the latters could kill the invading herd without experiencing any consequences. Invading territory was unforgivable as it was seen as an endangerment of the one safe space a herd had for its children to grow up in.

Hadrian had been lucky as a child that the centaur herd hadn’t seen him as a danger. The whole thing could have ended much differently, and he had been reminded of that over and over during the first few months after his ‘adventure’. Of course he had then gone and befriended one of the centaur children, so he was still not entirely sure if he had learned the lesson his parents had wanted him to learn or if he had learned something entirely different.

The trees around him started to shy away from each other, the spaces between them getting larger as Hadrian finally stepped into the clearing which marked the middle of the forest. Here, the heat of the sun hit him once more, and he made a mental note to remain inside the house for the rest of the day.

But for now, he quickly approached the small lake to his right. To call it a lake was generous – it was more something like an overly ambitious pond. There were always a few fish inside the clear water and Hadrian never understood where they had come from but he always watched them for a few moments. The sun and an uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck reminded him of his intention to hurry back home and he quickly grabbed one of the small stones lying in the shallow water at the edge of the lake.

_Ansuz_ was quite irritated to be awoken so quickly again but complied without much urging from Hadrian. He suspected that they liked Hchala – they were always quite willing to help him contact her. Maybe because Hchala was just as haughty as the rune? As was the owl?

Hadrian glanced at the rune. He was beginning to see a pattern there. Using _Ansuz_ , Hadrian carved a short message into the stone (a date three days from now) and then he dipped both of his hands into the water, the stone held in his open palms and covered by the water as well.

_Raidho_ came to life with much less convincing needed and happily coaxed _Ansuz_ into cooperation as Hadrian asked both of them to carry his message through the water, from one body of water to another, from his hands to the ones of his friend. With a small shimmer, the stone disappeared from his hands. Hadrian left his hands in the water for a bit longer, the cold wetness soothing against his hot skin, before he slowly stood up again. His runes bled steadily, and he took out his handkerchief to clean them mechanically. He would have to check on the vials hidden in his room soon, he thought distractedly. The handkerchief was charmed with a variation of the Protean Charm, cleaning his blood up and sending it to the vials carefully stacked in an iron box which only opened for him.

The combination of summer heat and light blood loss made him more hazy than the few uses of his magic would normally make him feel, and thinking of the distance between him and his home, he decided to be lazy. Activating _Raidho_ once more, he concentrated on his home and allowed himself to be transported in the blink of an eye to the front door of Charlus’ Cottage.

He was greeted by the scolding of Ellie, who pushed a large glass of water into his hands and complained about ‘that impossible owl, Master Hadrian, so rude’ and he smiled as he soaked up the overwhelming feeling of _home_.

ᛋ

Hadrian was buried in a Transfiguration book when his mother found him in the tea room that evening. While he was confident that he would be able to match all of his future classmates in the practical aspect of the classes, he had to brush up a little bit on the magical theory of ... everything, really. He had to pretend to use all those spells, after all.

“I heard you got adopted.” his mother said with a teasing smile. “Are we still allowed to see you sometimes or has she claimed sole custody?”

Hadrian looked up and laughed. “I’m sure you two can work something out.”

His mother smiled but she grew serious as soon as she had sat down next to him. “Dumbledore’s letter has arrived.” she informed him, sorting out her robes as she sank back into the chair.

Hadrian shook his head slightly. “Too quickly… he appears eager that way. Really, despite his skilfully crafted place at the top of our society, there’s not a single Slytherin bone to be found in that man.”

Dorea smirked. “Never complain about something that works in our favour, my dear.”

Hadrian laughed and nodded. “Was there anything surprising in the letter?”

“No, not really. Sadly, astonishingly little has changed since I’ve been a student at Hogwarts. But apparently Lord Slytherin, or Professor Slytherin as you will call him, is also the head of a duelling club.”

“Really?” Hadrian perked up. “That could be interesting.”

“And dangerous.” his mother warned him. “I don’t doubt that you would be able to … wipe the floor, so to say, with your classmates, but you will have to be careful, Hadrian. We don’t want them to know your true strength. Or that you do not use wandless magic as you will pretend. Not yet, anyway.”

Hadrian sighed. “I know.” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun and kick James’ ass with what they’ll think of as some easy light spells.” he grinned.

“Language.” Dorea scolded him with a smile. Then, she turned serious once more. “What are your plans regarding your announcement as Lord Potter?”

Hadrian leaned back in his seat, staring at the closed book in his lap. Sometimes he felt a little bit overwhelmed; everything had changed so much during the last few days, and it was difficult to still feel in control and keep track of everything important. His mother tried her best to let him make his own decisions, since he wouldn’t be able to rely on her advice during the Wizengamot sessions either. But she still made it clear that she was always there, in the background, supporting him with either advice or action. It was reassuring to know, and Hadrian was incredibly grateful that his mother was so completely and irrevocably on his side.

“The next Wizengamot session is on the last day of August.” he said. “It’s in the late morning, so all members with children at Hogwarts are still able to accompany their children to the train the next morning without losing any sleep. I will attend the session and formally announce myself as Lord Potter and claim my Wizengamot seat. And then... I will sit and listen, I suppose. There will be a few members who will wish to talk to me, for various reasons. I need to prepare for that.”

Dorea nodded slowly. “I don’t believe that all Wizengamot members will be happy about you taking on the mantle of Lord Potter, though. You are young and unknown. Most of those who will be willing to support you will be in the Light Party, and they will be willing to support you only because of your last name.” she pointed out.

“And I will lose their support as soon as I join the Dark Party.” Hadrian said. “But such fickle, unfounded support isn’t worth anything, anyway. So I won’t really lose anything.”

“Fickle support is still more than no support at all.” his mother objected. “And you have not yet any supporters in the Dark Party. You will need to get into the good cards of someone in the Dark Party, quickly. We will make a list of potential allies.”

Hadrian smiled fondly. “Of course we’ll make a list.” Speaking of lists, he thought back to the one they had already written down and remembered one point specifically. “We were thinking about gaining support prior to the Wizengamot session, didn’t we? Did you write to Lord Ogden? He was a friend of father, right?”

Dorea nodded. “I have written him and he will meet with us in two days. I am unsure how public he would make his approval of you, but he has voiced it quite clearly in his reply to me.” She hesitated a second. “Tiberius is, as you know, a member of the Grey Party. They are small, but they have gained influence due to the slow radicalisation of both the Light and the Dark Party. It might be worth it to consider if you should join them instead of the Dark Party.”

Hadrian was already shaking his head before his mother had finished her last sentence. “Mother, I _am_ a Dark magic user. I am not ashamed of my magical core – in fact, I am proud of it. It gave me the Peverell Lordship, didn’t it? And _you_ are a Dark witch as well and I could never want to hide the fact that you are my mother. In contrary, I will delight in reminding everyone of the fact that I am a Black as well as a Potter.”

Dorea smiled, taking one of his hands into hers and squeezing it tightly. The runes on his uncovered hands tingled happily at the comfort by his mother.

“Who has raised you to be so wonderful, hm?” she asked him affectionally.

“Father.” Hadrian answered promptly.

His mother laughed before shaking her finger threateningly at him. “I will tell the house elves to reduce your sugar intake, just watch me.” she said jokingly.

Hadrian gasped. “Mother, no! There’s no reason to resort to such cruel punishment.” he begged, leaning over to drape himself over her in a mock faint.

“Horrible child.” Dorea laughed before tugging him into a hug. They basked in each other’s warmth for a moment before Hadrian returned into his seat and picked up the book which had fallen off because of his theatrics.

“Tiberius Ogden will be a useful ally,” his mother picked up their conversation once more, “but he will not be enough for a smooth introduction into the political arena. You will need more supporters.”

Hadrian frowned. “You are right. Lord Ogden is better known for his business sense than his political influence, as well.” They sat in silence for a moment, both deeply in thought. Then, Hadrian spoke up again. “Say, mother, what was your impression of Minister Fudge again?”

His mother sneered. “An opportunistic little weasel. But quite smart – he’s a true politician and will always try to use any situation to his advantage. No true loyalty, of course, enough galleons can easily buy his vote.”

Hadrian nodded. “And between Dumbledore and Slytherin, whom does he favour more?”

“Lord Slytherin, definitely.” Dorea immediately answered. “Fudge has always disliked Dumbledore because he thinks he has too much influence in too many places. Dumbledore is the headmaster of the largest wizarding school in Britain, he is Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and he’s the current Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Also, the majority of the Light wizards and witches, as well as many of the Greys, follow his every word. Lord Slytherin on the other hand works much more in the background. In many cases he works together with Fudge, instead of opposing him. He still gets his way, of course, poor Fudge is no match to him, but the Minister often thinks it was his own idea in the first place.”

Hadrian smiled. “So, whatever you think of Minister Fudge, he’s a true neutral party. He obviously does not care if you are a Light or a Dark wizard - as long as you have enough money.”

Dorea returned his smile. “And are willing to give him his share, yes. Would you like me to set up a meeting with him?”

“Why have an elaborate, though mostly secret system of friends and allies if not to help your own son’s political ascent?” Hadrian smirked. Then he laughed. “But seriously, I believe that it would be easier to get a foot into the door to the political arena if Minister Fudge knows that I am no threat to him. When I spoke with Dumbledore earlier, he seemed very interested in the Potter family, almost worryingly so. I believe that he has his claws deeper in James as we suspected even after that scene at Gringotts. And Fudge is probably aware of that, or suspects it at least, seeing as the Potters were always a Light family. I would like to assure him that I am not one of Dumbledore’s marionettes.”

His mother gave him a proud smile. “Very well reasoned, my dear. Why not combine the two then? When you meet with Tiberius, you could ask him to show you around the Ministry for a bit, if he is willing to do so. You will need to inform the Department of Education regarding your attendance of Hogwarts, anyway. And the two of you might find a way to bump into Minister Fudge. Completely by chance, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Hadrian repeated with a grin.

They continued discussing a few details of their plan, only stopping when they were interrupted by Ellie. The house elf popped into existence next to them with a small tray carrying three letters and a stern look on her face.

“You are missing dinner time.” she scolded them both.

Dorea laughed and assured the disgruntled elf that they were just about to go to dinner, while Hadrian took a closer look at the three letters. One of them had begun shaking almost violently, and Hadrian quickly grabbed the tray to make sure that Ellie wasn’t harmed by whatever the letter was spelled to do.

“Hadrian, what –“ his mother started, only to be interrupted by loud screeching.

“DOREA BLACK, YOU INSUFFERABLE BITCH, HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME LIKE THAT, I WILL –“

The offending letter burst into flames and both Dorea and Ellie turned towards Hadrian who was glaring at the spot in the air where the letter had floated previously. He noticed their looks and glanced down at his left hand where _Kenaz_ was glowing smugly.

He hadn’t even realised that he had activated him.

“Oops?” he said with a startled laugh.

“Hmpf.” His mother obviously wasn’t very impressed by his lapse in control.

“We will have to work on that. We can’t have you setting your cousin on fire all over Hogwarts.”

“Well, I would only do so if he insulted you, mother.” Hadrian pointed out, feeling that his actions would then be quite justified. Ellie seemed to think so as well as she winked at him with a smile before vanishing, no doubt getting ready to prepare dinner.

For some reason, his mother appeared to think differently. “We don’t set people on fire, Hadrian. And _Kenaz_.” she said with an imploring look at the rune. “A little bit of self-control has never harmed anyone, and losing control over a bludgering harpy such as Euphemia truly isn’t worth the consequences.”

“Yes, mother.” Hadrian sighed. “But I’ll speak with Benny about the wards. Even a howler disguised as a normal letter shouldn’t have gotten past them.” Benny was their second house elf, responsible for, besides other things, the wards around their property.

_Kenaz_ tingled a bit, almost like a question. Hadrian knew that he shouldn’t be encouraging the fiery rune, but he sent a trickle of approval towards him anyway.

He looked up and immediately grew concerned when he saw his mother staring at one of the remaining two letters. Her whole body was tense and the fingers holding the letter were almost white.

“Mother?” he approached her carefully.

She startled. Automatically, she smoothed her robes with an unsteady hand, glancing at the letter and away over and over. “Ah. Yes. I... Well. It seems as if my parents have remembered that I still exist.” She sounded a bit lost, and Hadrian was abruptly reminded of the fact that his mother was still also a daughter to her own set of parents.

Parents who had made it very clear that they never wanted to see her again.

“You don’t have to read the letter, if you don’t want to.” he said cautiously. “They don’t... they don’t deserve to expect anything from you, not even your attention.”

Dorea smiled a bit shakily. Hadrian hated to see her like that. “You are right, of course. Bu still, I will read the letter. Better to know what they want from me, from us, than to be surprised later on. But I – you will have to excuse me, dear, I need to...”

She trailed off, but Hadrian understood her anyway. “Of course. Father wanted to plan some of the experiments for the artifact, remember? So he should be in the library painting, bothering poor Benny with everything he wants to write down and cross-reference. You can read the letter there.”

His mother stood, not saying anything but nodding and drawing Hadrian into a tight hug. He held her close, hoping to give her some strength as she had done countless times for him.

A few minutes had passed since Dorea had left the room when Hadrian remembered the remaining letter. He picked it up and his eyes widened in surprise when he read the name of his cousin in the place of the sender. Looking around the room, he suddenly felt too exposed and gathered his books in order to read the letter in his room instead.

ᛋ

The appearance of Hadrian’s room had changed quite a lot over the course of his childhood. It had started out with walls painted a sunny yellow, toys spread over every inch of the floor, every corner rounded and spelled soft in order to protect him on his unsteady journeys through the room. It had changed into a moving forest scene when he was six years old and had been obsessed with every animal he found on their grounds. His room had also housed an injured squirrel for a few days, before the house elves had caved in and tattled on Hadrian to his father. Charlus had been delighted, Dorea had been silently suffering and Hadrian had watched with big eyes as his mother healed the squirrel with a simple charm. The squirrel was put back into the forest at the edge of their grounds and the forest inside Hadrian’s room was eventually charmed into clean, white walls when he decided that anything else was childish. That conviction had only changed when he turned fifteen and had gotten bored of the whiteness. Now, the wall behind the front-end of his bed was a deep, midnight blue, while the other three walls were a warm beige. Not that you could see much of those walls – all of them were covered either by bookshelves or written on with various colours. Hadrian had started using the space on the wall next to his bed as his notebook for reminders for the next day, or for stray thoughts he didn’t want to lose to the approaching sleep. His mother had drily suggested that he might keep an actual notebook on a nightstand next to the bed, but there was something fascinating about filling the walls with writing.

He felt at home here, surrounded by the books packed with thoughts of others and walls proudly displaying his own thoughts and ideas. He smiled at the appearance of the replica of a real tree branch in the corner of his room closest to the large window – it seemed as if the house elves anticipated his new owl to sleep here instead of the small owlery they had above the attic.

Yes. Here, he felt safe enough to brave his cousin’s letter.

He wanted the letter to mean nothing to him, if he was honest. He wanted to be able to laugh about that part of the family, or simply feel disdain as he felt about Euphemia. But James...

Hadrian grumbled to himself as he sunk deep into his favourite armchair and opened the envelope. Why was family so difficult?

He closed his eyes for a moment, preparing himself for the insults and the demeaning words, or the threats or whatever he was about to read. Then, he opened the letter and he read the first letter his cousin had ever sent him knowing exactly who Hadrian was.

_~~Hadrian,~~ _

_~~Lor~~ _

_Cousin,_

_I suppose I should call you Lord Potter, but I don’t believe you earned that title so I won’t._

_~~You stole it~~ _ _The title was stolen from me, because even if your father was the older one, I was prepared to take on the Lordship Title. I was trained and taught by my father, and I will not stand by as you ruin ~~my~~ the Potter name. _

_Don’t you see that it would be better if I was Lord Potter instead of you? You don’t care about the wizarding world, you never even go outside! No one knows you!! ~~And you don’t even have magic~~ You don’t go to Hogwarts either. You can’t just join the Wizengarmot without a formal education._

_But if you decide to be selfish and care about being a Lord more than about our family, then go ahead and keep the title. But give me back the Invisibility Cloak! It was a gift from my father to me and you have no right to steal it from me. I don’t even know how you did, but it disappeared at the same time all kinds of books and papers vanished from my father’s office (at the beginning of the mourning period too, ~~you basta~~ ). _

_Whatever you do, even if you disown me and cast my mother out of the Potter family, just know that you will never be a real Potter. No one will ever take you seriously._

_Give me back my cloak,_

_James **Potter**_

Hadrian had to read through the letter twice to take it all in. “He misspelled ‘Wizengamot’.” he whispered to himself, just to make it a little bit more real. It had probably been an honest mistake. James wasn’t stupid, after all. Hadrian had managed to mangle his own first name a few times when his mind moved too fast and his hand struggled to keep up. (His mother still called him ‘Hadrina’ sometimes, when she really wanted to annoy him.) But if you wanted to write an impactful letter, maybe proofreading it once or twice was a good idea.

Hadrian read the last paragraph of the letter again. The last few days had been full of revelations and new thoughts and ideas tumbling through his mind, but never once had he even toyed with the idea of disowning James. He knew just too well how much it hurt to have your family deny you. While he had been lucky to be raised by the best parents a child could wish for, it had hurt to read stories about children who had grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles who loved them. Hadrian’s extended family hadn’t even bothered to show up to his father’s funeral.

He hadn’t considered casting out James either. While he didn’t like his cousin, Hadrian didn’t hate him either. He suspected he might have grown to hate him if he had gone to Hogwarts with him. But up until a few days ago, he had never met the other boy in real life before. They had only ever exchanged a few spiteful, hurtful letters. But no matter how much James had taunted him in these letters, fact remained that his cousin had been more of an idea, a concept to Hadrian than an actual person.

James had obviously thought a lot about the possibility of Hadrian disowning him. It was obvious from the way he clung to his last name, the way he almost dared Hadrian to act upon James’ fear. Hadrian couldn’t help but feel pity for the other boy. He had only just lost his father, and Hadrian knew how devastating the loss of a parent was. He wondered if they had made a portrait in time – Dorea had convinced her husband to make one much earlier than most would even think of doing so, but they had all known that Charlus wouldn’t grow old. Fleamont Potter had passed away suddenly, and it was impossible to tie the magic of a dead person to a portrait.

Hadrian truly hoped that a portrait of his uncle had awoken from its sleep.

Reading through the letter once more, he couldn’t help but consider waiting with his answer for a few days. _Let him wait and wonder_ , he thought a bit meanly. But then he discarded the idea, one he had never even fully considered. He stood up slowly and moved to his desk, sitting down and grabbing a blank piece of stationery. It took him a while to come up with the words, and the letter still didn’t feel completely right to him, but it would do. And if he had poured some of his frustration into the words... well, James would simply had to learn how to deal with that.

_James,_

_You may call me cousin in our private conversations, on paper or face to face. I would advise you to prevent yourself the embarrassment of making a scene by denying that I am Lord Potter in front of other people, but I doubt that you would take well to me trying to advise you in any regard._

_To answer your question: no, I do not believe that you would be a “better Lord Potter” than I will be. I do not believe that I am currently perfectly qualified to hold the Lordship Title either (we are both sixteen, James, we know very little yet), but I will not give it to you. You can call me selfish if you want to – I care very little about your words. I had to learn to care little, because of the many words you’ve sent me during our childhood. Because none of them were nice._

_Regarding the last paragraph of your letter:_

_I do not like you and you have made your feelings in regards to me very clear. But know this: I have been living with the fear of being disowned by a family which has never even deigned to meet me. I have been living with this fear for years and a part of me believes that you deserve to live with the same fear for at least the same number of years. But because I have lived it, I can give you this promise: as long as you stay true and loyal to the Potter family, I will never cast you out and I will never disown you. I do not like you, James. But you are family. And in contrast to you, I value family beyond my own selfish desires._

_Sincerely,_

_Hadrian Rigel Potter_

_Lord of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter_

_P.S. I will send an inquiry to Gringotts regarding the Invisibility Cloak._

Was it a bit too much to sign the letter as Lord Potter?

Hadrian squinted at the letter and then shrugged, secure in the knowledge that his mother wasn’t there to take (mock) offense at the ‘plebian’ gesture. Who cared, really? Hadrian would suffocate on unsaid words if he didn’t allow himself to be petty sometimes.

He sealed the letter, trying not to overthink his own words. If he didn’t send the letter immediately, he would probably agonize over the words, find something else he wanted to say or rethinking something he had already written.

“Ellie. Could you come here for a moment?” he asked into thin air.

The house elf appeared by his side after only a few second, a tray of steaming food by her side.

“Masters are distracted by letters, but food is important.” she said with a stern look. “Mistress Dorea is eating in the library, and you can eat here, Master Hadrian. But you will eat.”

Hadrian smiled. “What would we do without you, Ellie.” he said with a small shake of his head. He took the tray from her and placed it on the desk before grabbing the letter to James and giving it to her. “Could you send this letter off for me?”

Ellie nodded, big ears flapping a little. “Of course, Master Hadrian. Have a good meal.” She disappeared with an almost silent _plop_ and Hadrian had to force himself not to call her again and ask for the letter back.

He felt tired. It had been so much easier to simply dislike his extended family. But as Lord Potter, he couldn’t afford to let his own wishes and feelings get in the way of protecting all of his family members.

He glanced at the letter his cousin had sent him and groaned. James was such a dick, though.

On his hand, _Kenaz_ once more tingled a bit. Hadrian grinned as he slowly sat up straight again and dragged the tray with his dinner a bit closer. Maybe he couldn’t just set people on fire, but a little flame here or there...

He would just have to wait and see how James would act in Hogwarts. Hadrian had always believed that there was something to enjoy in fighting fire with fire, after all.

He chuckled and took a large bite from his pasta dish, only to curse around a mouthful of food as he burned his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Runes:**  
>  ᛁ Isa (she/her): ice, challenge, standstill. Used for ice spells.  
> ᛚ Laguz (he/him): water, healing through renewal, engery and growth. Used for all kinds of water spells.  
> ᚨ Ansuz (they/them): revealing message, insight, communication, inspiration, speech, truth. Used here for any spell with words.  
> ᚲ Kenaz (he/him): fire, inspiration, light. Used for all kinds of fire spells.  
> ᚱ Raidho (she/her): travel, seeing the larger perspective, dance or rhythm of life. Used here to detect magic.
> 
> Okay. Listen. Did I literally stop in the middle of writing that forest scene and realized that I made Hadrian into a Disney princess? Yes. Do I intend to do anything about that? No.
> 
> Hedwig, the queen herself, was not actually planned to be in this story. She included herself. I picture her like this:  
> *in Diagon Alley, spots Hadrian* "That's my human."  
> *realizes Hadrian is walking away* "My human is stupid but I love him, so I will do what an owl's got to do." *flees her cage, causes havoc, thrives*
> 
> And we now know what Kenan is! We'll meet him and get to know him better then. Any idea what Hchala could be?
> 
> Anyway, this note is getting too long. Thank you so much for all of the kudos and for every single comment! I love them and they always encourage me to write more.
> 
> Btw, if you want, you can talk to me on twitter at @phoenix_sky37 I need more Harry Potter fandom stuff on my timeline. I'm horrible at any kind of human interaction, fair warning, but I will try my best anyway.
> 
> Next update is on 22nd of January 2021. See you then, Sky <3

**Author's Note:**

>  **Runes:**  
>  ᚺ Hagalaz: wrath, destruction, uncontrollable forces such as weather. Used here for lightening and blunt force. Comparable with e.g. _Bombarda_.  
> ᛉ Algiz: protection, shield, defense. Used here like _Protego_  
>  ᚲ Kenaz: fire, inspiration, light. Used for all kinds of fire spells.  
> ᛗ Mannaz: mankind, the self, awareness. Used here like _Homenum Revelio_.  
> ᚱ Raidho: travel, seeing the larger perspective, dance or rhythm of life. Used here to detect magic.  
> ᛚ Laguz: water, healing through renewal, engery and growth. Used for all kinds of water spells.  
> ᛁ Isa: ice, challenge, standstill. Used for ice spells.  
> ᚦ Thurisaz: thorn, force of destruction, mostly reactive force. Used here like a spear.
> 
> Okay. So this story has been in my WIP folder for a while, and I'll give you a warning right now: I haven't actually written up a lot of it yet. But I am in a great headspace right now and I want to use that chance to just... publish something. Instead of sadly staring at my ridiculous number of WIPs. So here you have it. Updates will be slow, just to give me time to actually write the story.
> 
> Also, the explanation on how exactly Harry uses his magic (and why he can't use a wand) will be explored step by step across multiple chapters. It's not supposed to be 100% clear yet. (But if you'd like to share your ideas in the comments, I would be super hyped to read them.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. Please tell me if you'd like me to continue the explanations of the runes, if you'd prefer them in the beginning of the chapter instead, or if you don't want them at all because you like to figure things out by yourself. Comments and kudos are as always highly, highly appreciated even though I am so very very bad at responding to them. 
> 
> The next update will be on Friday, 11th of December 2020.


End file.
